the great caper of robin goodfellow

maybe it is my nature, maybe i think too much, maybe believing gets me through. seeing everything from here makes the view fake and distorted. but i saw the gospel, i saw the facts that were laid at my feet, before my eyes. but it was a lie, a fiction, a myth, a fabrication, a deceit. what does that make me? a fool, a patsy, a chump, a loon, a sucker. i need reassurance. i need patience. to see what others see, to hear what others hear, not the superficial, but the testimony and the genuine. passions perish on the shit of the charlaton instead of the aching of the prolific visionary.