Unraveling, the mind of empty disturbances, unable to cleanse the foul reek of epitomized stupidity. Riddled by civilized capitalistic garbage, additives of disruptive, consumeristic destitude.


Destitute, Astute? Perhaps we are the cheese riddled by the cannibalistic mouse looking for a treat, a treat of sudden apathy, the circled wheel of hamster-like reality?


Enveloped in unrealistic notions of Ubermensch: disturbed men of unseemly intelligent quality.


Men and the unsound feministic “heroes”, the ones we hear complained, over-emphasized and cliched. Who have we become in this world of mundanity?


Stricken by past informalites of seasoned people, who we care not for in this seamlessly important existence of objected items that hold meaning in memories but not in value?


We have become determined to remember the past, when the future is but a distant waterfall that echoes longingess, unattainable in this saturated oblivion of repeated “euphoria”.


Perhaps we have our selves to blame, bubbled between the foam of a sea cut beach, eroding away the proverbial rock of time, weighting to be carried on the societal wave of cumbersome ideas and original premises, given through young people’s mouths repeated through aged men’s eyes, unable to move their minds riddled by Alzheimer’s.


And here I sit, seemingly illiterate, a stranger to the many and inconceivable for most.


The again why should we care?


We are merely,








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