Funk Beauty Dream

“I don’t know who I have, everybody seems shallow. They maybe are shallow like salt pits. Are salt pits shallow though? But I still like people, I still love them too, they are the only beings that could actually help me tolerate my survival. I used to like my people-the people I know and have- but now they seem to have been consumed by the ash-like monotone of constancy. Everything has changed dramatically and not fashionably. Change is like charcoal after burning or in my case the past, its like debris left behind after the flood has hit the places. Do all my questions have answer or is it just me at their loss- because I am lost in the finding. A loss is fine, its brilliant, its just the prettiest cover to the endless bummer that has eclipsed my clarity of sight that is wasting and weeping away its time in my mind. My mind is like a disco ball, carnival Ferris-wheel, its just funky and I think its good. I’ll have better people and places after a while, I’m breathing and sweating that’s all that matters in the present. The future is great, I’m carefully collecting colorful clues.”

9 thoughts on “Funk Beauty Dream

      1. My father was an Air France man. Not a pilot, the man on the ground. Those who went out after WWII to manage the operations in XYZ country. I was born in Pakistan. And we moved about every 3-5 years. Covered a few miles. πŸ™‚

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