It’s Friday 13th. So far I’ve managed to mess up my sleep rhythm. Catatonic cacophonic schizoaffective neurosis, like you just stand and watch a note changing on your wall, where a man practices his karate skills and forms an energy ball every now and then. Seeing this dream whilst your true self is burning in witch hunt. Hmm, a poem…
subjective view must blend with the ones around you
it’s supposed to be easy
yet overwhelmingly pressuring
you can’t ask for help
the asker is beaten by the riddler
you see no one for comparison
just be yourself, don’t be, it’s all NOW
WOW, I just found out a new noun
once he was lost with no senses
no thoughts, the self was dying
like everything faded away
that’s not the answer
Buddha walked that way first
changed it to something and was blinded by the joyous bright light
Can someone reprogram my void *being(Self &me);?
Hmm, that kinda stuff goes around my mind at the moment. Luckily being function is a function pointer, so I could change it to follow someone else, like the universe with a proper sense of time.
Dudes, more poems here, please.