Is the whole entire world happy? Is the feeble old man dying? Is all life about to perish?
The answer is indecisive. Why? We actually don’t know what’s going on. The reality…. is just a blank page of paper, that everyone can control it or disintegrate it in blink of an eye. Idle hands cover with blood and guilt—-paranoid, confuse, you actually don’t know what to do, and I, myself as well. Crazy as it seems…
Is it even written to its fullest potential?
Say, what you want to ask me? That blank page is smear and corrupt. It’s like impoverish cynical thieves thrive for your purity. Cleansing it wouldn’t fucking help.
There’s no lookin’ back. Time itself carve it on my life wall, hidden from all you ambiguous BASTARDS! And maliciously extinguish
What the fuck is going on?
On and on, I could sense that foul aura around? Let’s continue…
You can’t be me, I can’t be you, but we can be happy together living this carved misshapen cardboard box piece of shit reality we live on. Do you understand life? Can you understand my reality of life?
As you watch… Yourself wonders in a yin and yang world, the good and bad. In other hand, mixtures of these neutral colors will lead us onto a grey reality. Where depression inflicts us with boisterous skepticism.
how do we see the world in our point of view
I don’t know….