I try, I try to change world, but can't change life.

I hide, I hide, my weakness and my pain, every day hardworking.

I'm lost in the desert, I wonder who am I, no one can answer questions, all we can is, pretend life.

We are planning a lot, our life is over-scheduled, but we can't escape invisible deadline.

We are playing, we are playing, whole life is one game. showing emotions and tinkering, achievements and fails, but all is fake.

All we have is each other, we are all on one plate and There is no place for strife, battle and hatred.There is place only for Support, Collaboration and curiosity.

Thus and so, we are rolling the same boulder uphill and all we can is smile, there is no use of crying - that's the way we can achieve, achieve happiness of Sisyphus.

The grass is always greener
When the sun and moon share time
And if you wish to change demeanor
You'll learn this truth, I find

For I have rode the albatross
And dove deep into the sea
I have climbed with Sisyphus
And Hades set me free

The state of absence floods internally,
Overflows out of every aperture,
Absorbing the entire anatomy.

Contentment?
Who needs contentment.
Let's burn this fxckxng house down
so our skin swelts from the heat
and our egos can cry for our lost possessions.
Who am I without my Things?
Who is Sisyphus without his boulder?
A man now content with only himself?
Gxddxmn Absurdism.

Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble  . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De  . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .

As the sounds of morning begin to meep,
I told her good night and went to sleep.

I realized,
the secrets of happiness aren’t too deep;
but the climb up the mountain is a little steep.

What did Sisyphus know
About a slippery *****;
Shoulder to stone
His feet groped,
Shifting inclinations;
Each step consequential,
A mythic joke.
Wiggle the toes,
Feel for the edge,
Sliding is inevitable.
We have no victims
On  fallacious slopes.

Which lost hair defines bald;
Which millimeter makes you tall;
How many dimes makes one well off;
Which freckle makes you cute or beautiful;
Which ounce makes you fat,
From thin to Bottacelli.
Where does one begin?

Removing sentiments,
One at a time,
You find you straddle
The love/hate line,
A line drawn on a mountain top,
And splitting  your Sisyphus rock.