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It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.
windowed
is four paws
is purrs,
  written
in dna,
   all I am
allergic to.
  I think humanity,
at times, too,
    is allergic to
love and peace,
   until, I bring roses
home, and my
    horse of a dog
knocks me down
    licks my face,
and I cuddle up
   with my *****
purring.
My fountain pen is holding
mountain of love for you
Cut through the imaginary chains
Get a grip on the life’s reins
The journey maybe tough
Diamonds are polished by the rough
Journeying through the dark
Frictions may cause temporary spark
Running frantically across difficult territory
The pain and agony is just transitory
Life is there to celebrate
When you are confident and don’t speculate
After days of rain,
Garden birds flicker— sparkle,
Lighted by the sun.
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