days slink by
nights become semiamnesiac endeavors
deep above the inner shell
i put on a facade
of being alive
the hands of the clock
are all that are real
incongruously give jolt of fear
to
wake the
motherfuck
up
whenever whenever, whenever I pause
d{-_-}b
to enjoy life
even for a second
sometimes
stop to smell the roses
but leave our means of transport our thoughts and lives behind
through this realm
unattended
and it gets stolen
by some inconsiderate bastard
and we miss the bus
and then, having to walk
to our destination
thru thorny meadows and the like
we look back and can not help pondering
was it worth stopping?
and what was it like? what the fuck did i like?
it is but in the mind's eye of the beholder, forever - a figment of one individual from seven
seven-ass billion
one mind's eye
Was it worth enjoying life for that brief moment?
Indeed, the ability to master our
given tasks is masked
by overwhelming choke of TIME's power
we are left with smaller timeframes to develop
and evolve ourselves
each passing second
and the core of what each of us is
we will never know
because
time will always suffocate our identities
and
rob us of our personalities
no
the only real thing i know
is death
it is evident in everything
this world brings
people, animals, infrastructures,
hopes, dreams,
ideas
they all burn up in a shroud of thick flames
and die.
But
a strong man
is one who makes up his own mind
about his own mind.
We can only believe what makes sense to us.
We can only follow what we believe in.
We can only make sense of nonsense