I feel better when I’m into illusion,
Where everything is according to my head,
No guns, no sadness, no clinging, no dreams, no ignorance and no people.
Only me floating sinking in out with nature,
Reality is harsh full with millions of talking people and talking is not in me.
I recognize myself more in those illusions and there is no one who could stop me from falling in love with my self,
I tried to love one person but he showed me reality of phony and electronic madness trying to fit in the world full of mindless people.
So I love me.
W.E

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

The clock is ticking,
The room is cold and rusted radio is playing old good song helpful for my unorganized mind,
The lost old dog by Charles Bukowski is kept open as the wind is being so hyped,
The walls ain’t talking once they used to now they just stares at me blankly,
Ticktock on wall, saxophone sound from radio and hyped wind makes my bones move ,
Radio ain’t going to stop nor the wind is slowing down and my body is super exhausted that I finally couldn’t hear the tick tock but The walls are still starting blankly and sat on the couch, smiled hardly, there was rushing of sweat from my body and That was one good method to clam down the unorganized mind.
W.E