WHO ARE WE?

 
It does not matter where I am.
Cause I am nowhere.
It does not matter where I stand
What I stand for…
Who I stand by…?
Cause I am no one.
I am a little blow in the wind.
I am the yellowish jaundice ray of a dirty sunset.
A reflective illusion of a demonstrative mind is all my existence.
I do not exist here and now, but I am present.
I have no past; the future shall never come for us.
This is a game; I feel my legs moving
while I am in stillness.
My virtual body suspects something
is hidden well.
It does not know what else to seek but exultation
and name it truth upon a trigger, a stimulation.

My soul cartography is mystically and weirdly printed.
My body is crawled towards its purpose sparingly.
Embalmed with prejudices,
my bruised limbs are decolorized and bleached by impassiveness.
Protesting rioters, the minority aspects of my abnormal psychic totality are lacking oxygen.
My cracked mind is desiccated by hyper clarity algorithms.

Breathing is a curse.
Let my luscious burgundy blood feed the horses
Like little sea-buckthorn sprouts
And Dandelion dew
After a heavy rain.