The soul as novelist

    The Soul.
   (as Novelist.)
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The entirety of My Frame
consists of Prison-Junk
Tattoos, a wealth of Scars,
and various Self-Mutilation
marks. (or "razor painted
smiles" as I call them during
more romantic minded
moments.)

So it's understandable that
the casual, outside-observer
would assume that my body
is a broken temple, and I Mentally
Worship In The House of Pain.
(but rather than holding these
assumptions against them, I
use it to my own advantage.)

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(for me) everything revolving
around The Human Condition
seems to come with A Story, or
clever series of backstories
composed by the Author of Self
to conceal the less preferred
realities of their Truer Tale.
and damn what a fascinating thing
it is!

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to think: each day the soul (as
Novelist) is actively engaging
with Other Novelists towards
the construction of an Ever-Living,
Progressive Script.
(and due to the influence of Outside
Actors, each soul we meet becomes
a Fellow Co-Author of Our Living
Novel, by varying degrees and capacities.)

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That being said, I invite you (Odd Reader)
to consider what lies beneath the temporal
frames exterior, (whether it be a Broken Temple,
or profoundly beautiful piece of architectural
wonder seemingly flawless by design)
and pay closer attention to the words and deeds
of those around you.

(For those observations are what will help
guide you in determining who you choose
to Share The Novel of Your Life with.)

Chapter one: cogito ergo sum?

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