Enjoy :) - have your own interpretation...
My mind of illogical irrelevance is not my own choice.The understanding of everything is the perfection within me, without this knowing, lack of solution is my imperfection. As I write the imagination sings; I am out of tune with others, when I think others see me as foreign yet I am dark matter. Nobody knows; can see my reflection is quirky. The impulses are none but obsessive. This thought I cannot distinguish between the tongue, this is just the way I am.
Why does the grass not reflect green in my eyes?
Why does the sun shine grey?
Why did that voice mean nothing?
The theories are my laws, my way of living.My normal is everything else; it is the mirror that is broken and separated. This is the only feeling I understand. Life for me has no face; I just drive along the straight high road. People wave eagerly, some offer to pay for my journey. As much as I am not abstract, I only want one thing.
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