His mind is blinded by the flow of vicious thoughts and ideas, he is not able to catch a single thought and hold onto it. His head hurts, he can feel the Blood flowing through the vein that supplies blood to that piece of shit we all call brain. His fingers vibrate and his hands shake because of some unknown fear, some sense of insecurity, fear of feelings being repeated over and over again and the powerlessness of not being able to over come those feelings. Every time he feels the same feeling of disgust over and over again and he is conscious that it is reoccurring but he cannot do anything about it except to live through that pain again and again whenever it occurs. He rubs his hands over his head wondering what is happening around him or maybe just to increase the supply of blood to his dumb fuck brain. The life keeps on running in front of his eyes continuously, once he is alone, the scenes and memories from past keep him occupied if he gets a sort of pessimist or the dreaminess of future blindfolds his mind if he thinks like an optimist. The words written or spoken or remembered seem so useless when he is all alone. The plans he made seem so useless when fate doesn't let him stick to them. The dreams seem like filthy and mutating worms which seem to lie at his feet and which were once the crown of his head. This society is so fake, no matter how much he argues with or talk to any bastard about these worldly matters, he seems to gain nothing but even darker clouds tend to overshadow the world inside his mind. Suddenly he feels like saying stupidest poetry he can ever say. He demeans his poems because he doesn't even think he writes poems but some filthy collection of words which will never be even considered in the same category as poems:
What I see in the mirror, a consciousness infinite..
What I see in the mirror, a consciousness infinite..
The branches of emotions, a sadness infinite..
A few words to build upon, dreams infinite..
Strings of lives placed together, an existence infinite...
His words have deceived him, his true feelings are hidden beneath the deepest caves.
Who gives a shit about consciousness, he doesn't feel like expressing anymore.
