"Morning wind dissolves the morning frost on the green blades on the front lawns of houses where the living, both men and women, awake before the sun rolls over the illuminating horizon, now clearly viewed by the unfocused eyes of those whom cannot sleep due to the fact they cannot succeed in finding shelter for their tender flesh that never gains the hardening required to survive the harsh elements of the nature formed by the rotations. The wind touches upon the barks of trees, up through the branches to soon dying leaves, which will soon dry up, soaked in by the trunk, safe and secured by the rough, coarse textured shell that is earned by lifetimes of adaptations measured only by the lives surrounding it whom both ignore, and decide the fate of the tree that wind touches. The branches motion, waving at nothing in particular, but merely remaining by its will, which is unconscious stability, they creak as if moaning the pains of the everyday lives of those waking up in the houses they stand outside of-"
"What in God's name are you fucking blathering about now?"
"Why are you committed to interrupting me at my most lucrative moments of productivity?"
"I'm here to help you, man. We are here for each other."
"Then, would you please convey your thoughts after I am finished with my recitations. I think it would work better that way."
"I disagree."
"Why is that? Do explain yourself, please."
"A lot of what you're saying is exerting energy, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes. Mind, body, and certainly spirit."
"I just think what you're saying a lot of the time is not only wasting your time, but also your energy. What are you tackling, my friend? What is the subject you have just commenced?"
"Death and Taxes."
"What about it?"
"Are you being comical with me?"
"No."
"It's the subject all great writers allure to in articulating the certainty of all human beings. What it means to be human."
"Death I understand, but not all humans on planet Earth pay Taxes."
"Why do you ruin it for me by thinking so damn hard?"
"Hey, you're the one thinking so damn hard; you make life more elegant than it actually is, judging by what I just heard from the opening of that...magnum opus, or whatever you call that shit. Most people are simpletons, man. They want things clear, easy to understand, and to the point. 'Death and Taxes.' Okay, sounds simple enough for the laymen, but talking about the wind blowing outside a motherfucker's house ain't gonna peak the interest of your everyday blue-collar, clinging to something to reassure them that life is a struggle - the light not being at the end of a lifelong corridor, but a harsh climb to an unknown sky where one doesn't know if anything's possible, and they're not alone in - "
"What, pray tell, are you yammering about?"
"I was just - you know- motherfucker, don't get off the subject. Where you get 'Death and Taxes' from anyway?"
"Ronald Reagan."
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, of all the stumbling, fumbling failures that hold positions of leadership, you got inspiration from a man that was at the beginning of Alzheimers when he was barely past his second term. He probably said that 'Death and Taxes' shit when he thought he was talking to a priest, or a puppet."
"Very fitting."
"Yeah, no shit."
"Why do you curse so much, my confiding colleague?"
"To get through the world when you occupy both the so called stratosphere of intellectual pricks, or the subterranean with the bitching, moaning, equally annoying proletariats, you got to be elegantly coherent with what you say."
"You're confusing me."
"That's the spirit."
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