The conglomerate of my own chasm is enveloped by demise. My routine proceeds with an eerie passion for penance. I have no founding grounds. No balance. I tumble, bobble and shimmy through every 24 hours. I can’t wait until I collapse. At the same time, I aspire to prosper. I’m nothing spectacular. Quite the opposite. I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a dropout. I’m not afraid to admit that I live with my parents. I’m not afraid to admit that I ruined my foresight. I have a future full of tribulations and mishaps. The biggest problem I have these days is whether to just implode into an endless coma, or to explode with the vigor of a stampeding rhino. I have the ability to prosper beyond my time. Yet I choose to taunt death and failure. I learned how a car works in one night. For all I know, I could innovate the world…

But all I do is find ways to deviate authority. All I do is find ways to fickle death. Long ago I claimed, “I don’t know why I do what I do,” and to this day, I still don’t know. The clue I once had is gone. I’m back to living life careless. I don’t want to die. I want to be rich…

I have a shattered vital organ. The cracks have been corrupted by putrid fruition. A case far worse than weeds in your garden. Putrid fruition as firm as a mountain. It’ll take a legend to traverse through my corruption. I just hope that legend exists. 

The only song that brings a jovial dose into my life is “Eternal sunshine” by Jhene Aiko.  


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