Soared matter the words brushed quicksilver dust through the closed doors to my health
rolling faster i kept constantly walking while somebody else chose running more than holy trying to awaken me starting from my oversized feet to shrunken dried head only used one synapse to the other cosmic connection to be born to something simple called life
can it be true that i opened the trashcan while also finding myself looking rotten to me
quickly closed the lid shocked dropped hate into my face of unwanted cells sprayed thoughts wouldn‘t stop
uncovered without oxygen i was quickly to realize the steel that had captured myself were my own forced emotions dragging me to this bottom line without using a paper bag to protect the shiny metal that was created before
i always cared for recycling (awareness), however myself, i rather disposed at any chance i got, into any filthy dump.