I look at people waiting for money, crying for people, and laughing at nothing. I think to myself and produce this pattern. And in this pattern I only see hell. When dreams are only of luxury, power, wealth, and neglect wisdom and reason I begin to think that I am alone with wanting only virtue and a roof over my head and the satisfaction of knowing I am healthy and free. With no one to share this with and love only being about money I begin to realize I don't belong in this silly world but perhaps in another time or another planet ( I feel like something out of a science fiction book ).
I look at people and soon begin to realize they are drawing me out to be something I am not. Then they assume; even though I explain clearly and they come to their own conclusions ( which is perfectly natural ) or is it. After awhile, I notice that people will wait to steal from you and turn your story into their own to satisfy their listener. Secrets will be unkempt.
There is always something more to talk about or TO NEGLECT THE FACTS. Even when I write this I feel/fear that it will only be looked at for/from an distance and not in detail. Its almost like having a hunger that is never filled. Adrenaline being your only friend, wanting to break on through the wall and hope to see a field of flowers and beautiful girl within them no matter her hair or attire that may be blowing in the wind. Hoping that no such world can go to ashes... but it does. The white dream is over.