The living human is cursed hustled along middle-aged, middle income stomping along but alive. Manufactured flesh and smile.

Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.

The living human is cursed hustled along middle-aged, middle income stomping along but alive. Manufactured flesh and smile.

He was going somewhere safe, a place ahead at an unknowable distance but he knew with certainty he must keep moving.

Greed - there was nothing as frightful as this. Nothing as terrible as this.

I'm daydreaming at the sky, I regain my balance in the passing landscape. I feel the quiet. There is no chaos. There is no crowd.

I don't want to settle.

I resolved myself to the reality of life. Day after day, week after week passed and I found that a change had taken place within me. My spirits rose, eradicating the remains of melancholy.

I seek no love or happiness, I am content to suffer alone as once I falsely hoped to meet a love comparable to mine.

When we find ourselves wanting nothing, when one is so full joy emanates from inside and I feel now as if I want to live each day in the absolute fact the sun is shining.

You're resilient, promise me you'll be happy.

Our real self is shut away beneath false and petty language.
