In an existentialist surrender, he journeyed nakedly past night. The emotional weight of everything was recalled in the cartoonish reflections of his tilted head, balanced in his hands, while his skin began to lose feeling, sinking into the cavalcade of frosty wind blowing right beside him.
“And there was youth, and there was wilderness, and freedom, while everything was a zero”
And while everything was a mark, on the abscissa of life metallically rising, it was staining the truth that was colouring the montage of memories in red, blue and yellow drops of paint. Barefoot, he marched thru the handsome streets paved with flags of Burger King, and McDonalds. As a form of personal rebellion, and self-appealing protest, someone took them off and handed them to whoever looked worthy. He was worthy, of unreality, at least.
“I was there, and it was crazy as the day isn’t long enough to withstand that sort of a phenomena”
So, basking in the captivity of good will, and doing everything in his capacity to act radically, he placed a sovereign hand on venerated statues, with honey-shades of gloom, and climbed and clung to the strings of its marbled violin, necked by hieroglyphics.
“Enter morning, I was tumbling thru the figures of vain. I saved myself that nighttime by weeping”
He settled by the beach, and with blurry people all around him, taking grace in a sweet kingdom of Egyptian cotton-rooted threads of love. Crotch and cloth in times of swinging shrine, just playing him for his stare, and blaring for its flair..