I wonder if it’s us fleeting away fast or if its the time accelerating way faster ?
Either way, we seem to loose grip over hours and possibilities and this so called “life”. Loosing grip huh! Yeah, talk about reality. But again Reality is boring. Truth is boring. This whole fucking planet is boring. Or maybe it’s us, that’s boring. We are so boring that we have to sporadically dip ourselves in a pickle jar to supersede all them species that this existence has been missing. Or maybe we are just bored. So bored that –
We quit jobs.
Quit almost anything sociable.
While there ..Most of them folks are already hitched and happy (Oh happy is such a dubious word) : Here we are… Half lives lived and still single. May be we are just not the dating material types or maybe its but the fear material instead : Fear of intimacy. Fear of commitment. Fear of dependency: Fear of how soon we might quit on LOVE too.
Such a disgrace to this invigorating age. For all we are but insipid house-daughters gleaning stars from the ceiling and planting flowers on walls. ..Thinking at nights.. dreaming during lights. Either sleeping excessively or ne’er. For Sleep is boring. Since then you have to wake up each morning searching for the lost answers under your pillow – of – how could people be so happy ( why is happy such a dubious word? ) to wake at 6. Shit. Piss. Eat and ride couples hour to reach the toiling hole where you turn into some fucking automaton so you can acquire sweets outta your sweats ? Money, huh! Talk about what it can’t buy –
It can buy you the mellifluous tune. Even A ticket to the moon..
Great view on afternoons from the wafting red hot air balloon..
Well ! it can buy you everything you don’t need..like extra boobs and artificial looks..cool extravagant gadgets that turn you into some zombie midgets. But all I want is fishes, but Nevermind : the thing is .. We seldom own this money thing, thy see. But When we do, Oh ! likea maniac , Mad . mad . we roam libraries and thrift stores and all roads less traveled. But mostly we don’t. But mostly we are broke as fuck. So we rather stay home , babbling with the non livings and then sobbing over random feelings. We are pathetic. The hills are our only hang out space. We are so pathetic that We squiz from the top and act as if we own it all..
The breeze..the trees
The clouds.. every vacant array between house’es
Has failed to own us.
Pigmenting our souls- rainbow and lungs- noir black, we wonder if it’s us that’s pathetic or maybe it is but the town. This ghastly town..overriped and busy; so pathetically busy on thyselves to not care But gratify the other. Too busy that they don’t even have a sec to pick their stumbled echt up. No wonder everything is superficial here – but not the filth or the Flaks; myan Only the concrete jungles could multiply here NOT US We can’t even behold the setting horizon merge into the floating blues here . Neither the reflection of rising rays on the diamond alps. But mostly We could never behold us as one among them here. May be we don’t fit in the pieces or maybe its just a wrong puzzle we are mislayed in.
S O B O R I N G ! ! !