deepundergroundpoetry.com

Nothing incommon

Things are losing meaning fast. I understand nothing is made to last. Infinity is too vast to let you cling to the past.
The world of consumerism is artificial, as our perceptions of today
built from projections of another time. Our experience is polluted. Overwhelmed with empty kicks of dopamine. Our connections disconnected
Dull gossip and reliving - of reliving of the sleep.
On Friday nights we're all drunken sheep. Stuck in the screen of someone else's dream. These ghosts are losing meaning in my being.
Losing fucks to give fast. I won't put on my make up for you, nor will I lie about who I am. I won't pretend to be entertained by the holly boring scenario, you sware upon.
There is a blueprint imprinted by the tell-a-vision, and everyone is sleeping. Should I feel inferior to this shit-show?
You won't watch the sky with me or admire the beauty of a bird. You won't listen to music with me, dissolving in the perfection of love that it's made of. You won't see the colors and you won't hear the silence. You can't be happy in the moment... You can not stand yourself. There is no eternal beauty above and below. Your stare is distant, wandering, always looking to be somewhere else. You can not feel the prana after a thunderstorm. The electricity of truth.
You know not the feeling of freedom.
You haven't heard of magick.
World, we have nothing in common. And when you say I am not good enough for you... well, fuck you. Because you are not good enough for me. Catch up, shallow bitch.