FIRE OF MOODS

  there are sorrows  living in places where joy should call a home. you are existence. but you have chosen to exist tense, and succumb to the pressure of merriment meant for leisure. that if we should draw multiple clocks, and set their hands to different cardinal points to predict your leisure time, they would all be correct. alcohol becomes your first name, for your belly has taken joy in gulping many mansions and toppling several streams your dreams could have rowed through. and I know a mad kin. he calls himself the father of enjoyment. he has commandeered many wives and mistresses, and have found resting place between their thighs, yet he never met satisfaction. I know another fraud, who wanders from street to street begging for cash to eat, but squanders them every time at the shore of drunkenness. and madness is mad at sanity. for how does a man wake to the rising sun, and decides to spend forty thousand on merriment, while his thumb constantly battles with his phone's ...

foolish years has rolled over the hands of time. for awe is no longer inspiring, and madness is a new shade of fun. yesterday, we were a light of hope, struggling with constant chaos believing a tomorrow would come to our rescue. but tomorrow slopes upon us, and leads our feet into thicker darkness, until blindness becomes our only vision. and the eyes are nakedly viewing a naked parade, of black shades twirling in red lights. the workings of stupid brains, awaiting the spark of violence to fly. but we were meant to find peace at the melody of chirping birds. but even the bird's harp has lost its piece from many reverberant tweets of insanity. our monstrous forms are full blown, in a circle of challenges and gloomy gaze. wisdom weeps alone for this generation of foolishness and shocking shades. for madness is a new shade of fun, and awe is no longer inspiring. foolish years has rolled over the hands of time. #El_Magnifico™