Alone Surrounded By All This

It is a strange scenario that i surely do not fully understand. How can this be so true? This place is always filled to the brim with all sorts of souls. But today its just me all alone treading everyone's paths without them to see. It strange but like everyone else i am just so much more comfortable in this ghetto. The world of the overstuffed and glassy eyed scares me. It prompts thoughts from as lame and uninspired as murder to grander dreams like humanicide. The annihilation of this cancer of an animal then reclining in a lazy boy with an ice cold glass of limeade. I hope I will fall asleep and there will be no need to dream because i will already be there so delicately reclined. If it needs to be messy then so be it. It just goes to show that i could care a little bit less. I am getting back into this thoughtlessness that haunted my aimless youth. I have few plans and just a few things to do. So if this train could wreck itself already that would be just delightful for me. The only party involved in this place. All alone.

But this all begs the small but yearning question when will i sort it all out. Can i make it on my own? Or do i need a muse with a figure that makes me believe in some sort of divine architect who has some semblance of good taste. But class is too and so much to imagine right now. Let us just stick with what we know. The immediate bullshit of this confusion called a short span of time. It was some time ago and maybe I'll get there again. It isn't going to happen like this in solitude. Well it could as in the first things but as for the other scenario you catch my drift? But this isn't working. Then again why should it unemployment pays well. I want moments of beginnings and i want to treasure them. Or hell i may just want sex. I lied i am not a young man. I am so old and sick. I am definitely tired. If i could have one glimpse of my future I'd want it right now. I would have to ask for a shot of me and her a someone i don't know yet. Taken from the ceiling through the spinning blades of a ceiling fan. On a humid and painfully sunny day. I will not wake. That is all i can promise.