The art of writing has lost its drive, has lost its passion. Mashed into unforeseeable potato salad. Lets hope not forever lost. The mass need for fast talk, instant satisfaction has taken over. Now we aren’t bothered about the deepness but whether it provides us with that never ending requirement for attention. This attention has started to dominate the fabric of life and it shows with the products amassed over the past couple of years. Bringing and increasing that yearn for popularity. We’re faced with the Roman times yet again – colosseum filled with cheers and boos for low cost entertainment. Too stupid and blissful to notice.
Another era of annoyance for the few who want to make something of themselves. I hope this dreadful timing does not last a mere fraction as my heart grows and ripens full of old and choking dust. I don’t regret the nature of my life but the lack of deviation and patience. The analysis is vital as it uncovers truth hidden frequently by mass eruptions within my soul. The mind does indeed seek a straight truth and the heart ponders amongst the common feelings of the rest of them. The devouring and forceful soul screams. It inject a potent concoction of confusion. Rattling my body. I can sense its eagerness to break free…
Ahh…
The freedom to roam unjudged and unrated. Now we get down to the bottom of it. Let me explore my individuality unjudged (I know its not a word but meh) and unrated. I’m not another YouTube video.
© Halmat Ferello 2009
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