Because
this is it. This is here. And you ask for what should’ve been given instead of
looking at what is already there. The news will make you sad boy, humans
treated like toys, pierced by big bullets and ugly noise. This is human life and not everyone fully understands what
the hell it means. So open your eyes wide, don’t blink or look away. Remember: what pisses you off will never grant you a good night’s sleep. No one in life will
ever tell you what will tick your hinges. No one in life will ever know what will
make you whoever you truly are. Hence filter. Enjoy. Remember. Feel every bit of
emotion life hands, for you cannot grow from from a single seed of pure sorrow, pure pain, or pure love, or pure game. Our fists would always be bare for every event. Our tales are slowly being written and re-written. From the
beginning of the middle of the end of the play. No magic or
faith can match what this is, held between the sun and the red tears of the Martians.
Ours alone, a fashionable disaster, in distressed captivating rudiments, and surely we must be brilliant enough to
think of a million languages for a million years of discourse. Aha, life? what
is it to you? To me it is evil and sweet. Should we raise our eyebrows and get drunk til our holes are filled with abstract reverie? You have no fucking idea how this could kill you, your brothers, sisters, and baby-sitters. Why do you keep on looking over your shoulder, looking back, squinting at the face in front. Hey. Look here. This is it. And you ask for something you’ve always wished for unaware that it’s
already been there, long before you were even here.
