To wake up and found themselves drowning the lake of tears so they cry, until the mental asylum illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse, and I’m with you,

Running from crow to clouds, sail from sun drenched shore.

Enumerating the supercilious institutes they had searched and found only disputes, which ironically redeemed the buried ego and made themselves proud…

Freedom, freedom, freedom, they shouted so loud,

To hear the resonance from the narcotics concreted purgatory where’d eliminated all the frivolous hipsters and their trivialities of magazines with brand new threads of brainless thoughts.

The relief brought by intoxication was a hiccup after an imaginary decent meal nice and short,

Yet again they would wound up in the healthy reality where concealed the solid hunger and predicament of sordid deals…

‘To accomplish, attain and achieve, that’s what you will have to give’ is the echo oscillating between the hopeless breath of mind once seditious and the staggering body of morbidity, predicting the inexorable battle lost.

Those conceited are those who lack confidence the most, who once knocked on the door of authority with the last preserved dignity,

Who confronted fusillade everyday…’horrible’, ‘ludicrous’, ‘terribly outrage’ or ‘makes absolutely no sense’ and bared only a fatigued smile, 

Who went home burning down their work to the last page with shredding souls,

Who cheers with every tragic event of their life with decreasing patience they did not know.

They were once dreamers, who imagined a birthday celebration they’d never had. 

They were once dreamers who talked in connotation with no elucidation and watched the madness bouncing like a rotten apple in a delicate pun net, and grinned with disdainful denial.

They were once dreamers who deluded themselves with the capricious countenance of a lover whose name they could not tell. 

They were once dreamers who marched with the insubordination of ‘make art, no money’, until they’re completely out of paints and canvases and brushes turned into knives and took their life. 

In the river of blood where floated wrecks of prescribed drugs, i saw the prosperity of medical industry and then i cry:

‘What must I do with thee? 

To burn you and you’ll hurt, to bury you and you’ll rot, and to send you away to the sea, the nature will defeat you and make you bloat… 

What must I do with thee? 

All the mistakes, miseries of memories once tortured you over and over and all turned into nothing, you suffered at each breath until now you’re all dead.

What must I do with thee?’

I followed the flow down in the road, surrounded in this urban smoke, to find myself again soaked.

Slipping down to the ground with cold cold water running by my feet and thought of ‘freedom’ that they always mentioned,

Cuz maybe the idea beyond beauty of all kind is merely an erogenous desire as if the id of nature,

Cuz maybe mankind built up this civilization for a reason, to survive and escape the law of nature to have the time to conceive and create,

Cuz maybe there is a fundamental need of organization to keep the human functioning to endow the capricious existence under the sheer nature,

Cuz even to free my mind requires an individual system…

Cuz…cuz…cuz…there is simply no such a thing as the eternal truth in this ephemeral mortality, but only an insulation of a beautiful state of mind where they could indulge themselves in the perpetual imagination.

Cuz instead of digging deep into encyclopedic knowledge as philosophers, psychologists and scientists then convey them out through exquisite literature,

They just dream their own dreams by floating above the mundane world of scrupulous people who consider themselves to be tenacious.

How I am jealous of those true artists!

So I come to the point to realize that I was never an artist, and i am too cynical to be one.

Yet I’d like to stay in this vulgarity to push the society of artificial computers and hypocritical politics forward,

So they might linger but follow the successively successful suicides of the great of the bygone.

I’ll survive for you to live, cuz on the atlas where i threw the dice; i had strayed too far from my paradise.

You see, or not see me,

I’m here

Without pleasure, neither pain.

You miss, or not miss me,

Memories are here

Never come, never leave.

You love, or not love me,

Love is here

Doesn’t shorten, doesn’t raise.

You be, or not be with me,

You have my hands in yours

They never forsake.

In my arms or in your heart,

Love and jollity

Soaked in serenity.

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Normally i resent translation cuz it fucks up the literal ambiance but i guess it doesn’t matter now when u stumble something truly powerful cuz eventually word is only an artifice.

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Was talking to a fren yesterday and admitted the real reason behind my laughing disease… When i laugh out loud like a proper retard,i probably wasn’t laughing at all,i was screaming,crying,breaking…yet laugh n smile together create the best universal disguise,wow god knows how long i’ve been using this technique…

i hate it every time when some random chick suddenly pop in to my life just to use me to get to my fren…can’t believe it happened to me….AGAIN!!!!!i’ve only known u for less than a week n now u start to act like my super best fren,quit it n leave me a lone  u pretentious…fucking hell cant even call u bi***,and no matter how i’m gonna react,it’ll still make me sound more pathetic than i already did…how did i end up in such a messed up awkward situation again??!!

i need a holiday…a very long holiday…it’s funny that we are assigned to read The Ugly,well i’m the true identification of ugliness no doubt…wow, tht sucks,this time i rly give up on looking for my long lost confidence,the harder i try,the deeper it hurts…fuck it,dont care anymore,i need more drugs

I’ll never have you in my life.

Wish i could write you a song,

Wish i could have your response,

Wish all my conflicts are easy to be overcome.

Hovering in the firmament of joy where never will be found,

Your insolent smile shines upon,

Teasing my ineptitude thoughts over the bygone.

So i let go of my guilts then run

Into my fallaciousness of your playground

That has turned my world around.

Redeeming my long lost confidence i’ve buried underground.

Do you know i’d blink to again hear your sound?

So i kiss your eyes and realize,

i’ll never have you in my life.

…

The winter break of three weeks long,

To be the last chance to have them gone.

Because i kiss your eyes to realize,

I can never have you in my life.

But i failed,so i dwell.

In an intrinsic insulation

Of my ultimate contradiction,

Trying to escape into the imagination.

It didn’t work out through,

Cuz i drowned into the emancipation,

Which i thought it was.

Oscillating to wander about

And i wonder what the snow was trying to tell.

Everything i wished to happen but they did not.

Tell me the truth, i asked myself.

It’s nothing to you but all my fervent dreams are about.

Why it has to be so wary to tell?

Because honestly, it’s scary to dwell.

Without escapism, i turned so dull.

Am i making sense to you now?

Hopefully not,

So i again fool you all.

It’s nothing personal, it’s not your fault.

How come we came to this stage?

What if i’ve already been too indulged?

Whereas you’d not care,

Cuz genuinely, it is not your fault.

…

No elucidations,

No accusations,

i merely love you,

And may you be free everywhere,

Without me to bother,

Because i’ll set you free,

By plunging into the perpetual winter,

Carrying a genuine smile with dripping water.

Normally i dont really write this kind of shit because soaking myself into the sheer emotion somehow embarrassed myself deeply, because emotion is only an illusion caused by the chemistry of your neurons, i mean, fine, i understand that your love goes to waste would turn you grumpy and gloomy but there are simply way too many things which are far more worthwhile to be kept in mind.  People come and people go, losing is gaining, another turning to a brand new beginning. Whereas i just realized my all time solace has never made me feel the human ‘happiness’ since i’ve been staggered and strayed my entire life, searching for the so called greatness until the intuition brought me to this art school.

Meeting and mingling with those people who seemed to be distinguished to me somehow guided me to appreciate this life in a way i had never done before. i always have been so shamed of myself from head to toes, yet here, i weep to feel that i deserve this life as anyone else, and for that, i’m grateful.

——————————————————

Probably cant keep this blog updated til i get back from Scotland,

So, merry Christmas in advance.

Instead of digging deep into the so called truth like philosophers, psychologists, scientists then convey them out through exquisite literature, true artists simply dream their own dreams by floating above the mundane world where people consider themselves to be so enthusiastic and tenacious. They give no accusations and offer no elucidation, they simply stay in the insulation of the beautiful state of their minds so there they can indulge themselves in the perpetual imagination.

It is a catastrophe for me to come to this point and realize i’ll never be an artist. No, im way too cynical to be an artist,im only a writer. Whereas detecting this kingdom of freedom somehow canalized me a path of novelty where i also realize how much i love art.

Art is freedom,the erogenous desire to freedom

Until now i’ve not yet met many true artists in this life, however, for those people who are so lucky to be this free, i’d like to stay in this mundanes and profanity for them, push the society of artificial computers and hypocritical politics forward, to offer them the sky at where they are floating and dreaming some constant fresh air so they can dream on.

You dont need to know either what i’m and will be doing or the hidden reason because as long as the bullets of reality have not invaded ur world, ur enchanting dreams will linger,so i can always see the hope of freedom, it’s enough.

well,well…my brain is again fucked up…nah actually,do i hv a brain?

jimi blue is a cheesy singer yet he reminded me one particular issue of death is the eternity where lays the beauty.

"when u get the thing you always wish to have,sometimes u wish it to be dead",

it’s like Browning’s Porphyria’s lover n Noir Desir who killed his wife

when the animal side in the id took control of the psyche.

whereas,i understand em, i burnt things that i treasured the most so the beauty stay for eternity,at least personally.

There was a world beyond, access to the acceptance of paradise,

I couldn’t find the path to that access,

I couldn’t reach the paradise where you had left your smile upon.

I lost it, by all the fallaciousness.

Redeeming the lost is a longer process,

I should know this, yet I couldn’t face it,

Saying goodbye to the laughter, bursting out the happiness I’d ever had.

On the atlas where I threw the dice,

I strayed too far from that paradise,

I still hear the symphony with an amiable yet distant voice,

I realized

The reality was too far from my paradise.

The world beyond was your beautiful mind.

Chocking on my twenty-second cigarettes,

Indulging my consciousness into this reminiscence,

That has permeated through my every concept.

Irony, turned my detachment into an excruciating lie.

Goodbye my paradise.

hearing symphony with a great distance

                                        where i couldnt locate the fading voice

                                         from the atlas on which i threw the dice

                                                                             thts probably all about it

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