The box: the well-defined moral and social boundaries that contain me. 

My box, it’s not necessarily square, but it serves the same function.  Mine happens to be misshapen because I push from the inside and ram myself against the sides.  I jump. I spit.  I spin.  I kick.  I run. I laugh.  I punch. And I dance.  The movements come in movements and my box rocks with the vibrations.  

Vibrations equal sound, sound in form equals music and music makes the world go round.  I don’t need a scientist to tell me; I feel it.  The universe sings. 

We all have our box.  Which may lead one to question: What is outside the box?  My answer: The expanding universe, an unknown realm, the circle of life, God, Satan, Allah, Valhalla, nothing.

It is presumptuous to judge the inside of another person’s box and more presumptuous to judge the outside of the box; you can’t ever be in the same box with anyone else and no one alive knows the outside of the box because only Death unpacks them.

HahahaHAHA.  I am no writer and no philosopher and no genius. I am a bullshit alchemist that finds humor in being.