Is anybody actually alive

Is anybody actually alive? Existing in dream worlds of
physical myths. More I experience life, the more I am
mystified by it. I feel you too often. It disturbs me. What
was this game of pretense? How to live in the normal
manner? Can’t relate to anything . . . only relate to the
color of everything. White and tan are the colors I associate
with you.
Joy. How can one get off on that there is no perception to
choose. More colors that way, I suppose . . . too wild a
freedom this enlightenment. See why Ug doesn’t like. See
why others make show business out of it. I’m only interested
in colors . . . colors – reflections . . . angles of the bounce.
Sun warmth glow, spotlight flash . . . flash one moment of
visibility. Chocolate – the food of the depressed. Coffee – the
food of the lazy. Meat – the food of taste; of something with
eyes to see . . . to see . . . to see colors.
I followed you around. We met on neutral ground. We ate
at the café of sound. Talk to me. Talk to me. You know the
meaning of frustration. You passed that inheritance to me.
Lives are all the same. No one is different. Just pretending
not to care. Some believing it’s best not to care – those care
the most. Care the Most . . . a song is a mantra . .. is a
color. All the dreaming while we have a body. All this soul
saving. Modern life is repetition. More into the art of
preserving another perception than enjoying this one. Art

yet . . . yet . . . yet . . . People dread their body stopping . . .
stopping . . . all the while frustrated with its’ limitations
and awesome mystery. Why is there only polarity? Be not
identified, only chose a color. Why this town? Why this
night in the day? Why is damp always cold and grey?
Always something next to do – color – image shot – paint,
wander as form to form through form. We aren’t separate –
only seems that way. Concentrating on different colors; they
blend and create another color or all becomes muddied –
over-worked, fast art is most deliberate.
He doesn’t understand my mood. He enjoys his chose.
Perceptions bump, repel, attract, fade.
I’m different, I’m tired, I’m wide awake, I’m the same.
Why does everyone pretend not to feel exactly what everyone
else is feeling? They never notice anything but their own
choosing. Is anybody actually alive?