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?