Ad Absurdum Pt. II (For shame, Ionesco!)

Things are only ugly when they have no purpose.

And even then, useless things can be beautiful.

I knew one once—an undisclosed, discolored discard—

who was beautiful despite her lack of worth,

and isn't beauty inherently valuable?

One can argue either way; isn't the absurd somewhat surd in its absurdness?

It's not whether the rhinoceros has one or two horns, but rather its lineage we care about.

There is more sense in nonsense than in logic.

-

And but what of this train ride? The sole soulless soul

remaining sole in a car full of business men and women

who wish not to speak—is it not absurd in its concept?

A loud soul among quiet bodies with its longing, burning

stench of sweat and coffee—the coffin, the sarcophagus—

the esophagus—the placentophage that et the virgin's womb—!

And where, now, have we arrived? At the inevitable

conclusion of God, and thus God concludes. The silence

of souls includes the conclusion of the intercepting inception

of the sole sold soul—that of Christ! For thirty silver pieces!