I once dated a man,
no—a boy
who took a bath with me.
While we soaked
he said,
“Vaginas are gross,”
and I never stood up again.

He sat alone,
alone & at home,
where his screams were silent,
but his mind was violent,
his insecurities hid deep inside,
they did indeed eat him alive,
a tear rolled down his face,
as his heart began to race,
where his depression lied deep within.
this went on for days, months, years,
and until he cried  his very last tears,
he decided that he had enough,
the world around him was much too  tough,
it took the gun to his head,
Congrats Society,
he is dead.

Happiness, What creates it? what is happiness? for some, happiness is money, wealth. Others, happiness is life itself. Others find it fulfilling a purpose. Purpose? Is there really such a thing? a slave to be bound to a singular entity, for eternity to come. Are we all slaves? feeding the machine that is called life, is there reason behind it? I know my purpose, to bring happiness to people. Solipsism, the idea, that the world. only a picture, of a subconscious artist slaving away at his canvas The artist, his world. the one he creates, The one he sees. the one where he exists. And if there is even, even the slightest amount of truth. Behind the Artists mind. You Are The Most Beautiful Thing I Could Perceive.