Oh people in my head,
U knew that I got all my fabulous plans ready; good food, good lightings, good bed and few good emolicious songs to go along with it. But right after the truth was out, I got all fed-up and dare not to begin.
Next is demented pulse, thinner dreams, usual people, usual tales, colder feet and tears start rolling underneath my mascara-eye-lashes tip.
Under a blacker shade of darkness, I sit. I tried to imagine being a machine. A tears-hydraulic machine, that is. I tried to stop the sticky tears like pressing the red juicy button I saw on TV but again and again and again, I ended popping the pills.
I then watched myself move to the love-your-happy-ward society, with cartons of imaginary booze, imaginary friends and imaginary cancerstick, where it produces more heavy-fluoxetine-flavoured-tears. Tears that rather stay than to go away.
And it all thanks to my higher-stupid brain, I am now running west, leaving the wrong calling cards that I bought today.
Calling cards that I thought could bring light but it brought comatose to the heart and put my life at stake.
