Thin Lines Gibberish Poem by Justus Mila

Whether the moon creeps,
Or the sun shines,
Whether the rain drips,
Or we see sky lines,
Two things stay for us to keep;

Whether we crave to lone
Or flock like sheep,
There's shepherding and we're in too deep,
In too deep in fat lies and thin lines,
Fat lies that make the heart heavy,
And thin lines that make our walks weary,
All forming glass ceilings that make perceptions blurry,

Thin lines between futility and vanity,
Enlightenment and insanity,
Ambition and infinity,
Satisfaction and pacification,
Hard work and self altercation,

Pissing contests and necessary duels,
Bullshit and biogas fuel,

Thin lines between thin lines and fine lines,
I see lines of people and ideas telling others how to draw,
But I know, art or not, it's always better raw,
This has very little to do with sex and sexuality, but even crooked sticks draw straight lines,