This post is not about you

No this post is not about you. This post is about me. How fucked up this world is and the one I find myself living in. Where breathing is the only commodity worth trading. Sleeping the only escape from disaster and looking someone in the eye is nothing but a glimpse. Your words are no music to my ears. Your thoughts bring no comfort to my being and your advice nothing more than hickory-dicory-dock. I have thought about it all. Discussed it all. Slept on it. Woke up to it. Ready to hurl because of it. Take your socks of sympathy and hang them somewhere else, there is no space for them here. This space is already full. Filled with madness, discontent, bitterness. Should you find some longing here it will not be for you. It will be for a life greater than this. A space worthy of living and a time ready to breathe. No imaginary heaven falling from the sky or fairies picking up the dust. Something real and nothing dead. Where darkness is simply something that follows the light of the day and people still write songs about that month of May. Where dancing is a pleasure, not a necessity. Smiles still light up the sky and thunder awakes that of your inner core. When beauty is not something you behold, but feel. . .