the eyes are the windows of the soul and behind these eyes lurks a black hole i often wonder who s really insane the givers or receivers of all the world s pain i always seek to escape this place but then i always come back for more the only way to appreciate wealth is to dream of it in vain when you are poor everyone owes a death we try to make sense of the unknowable and what we find may be unbearable we need to understand the bias of the lens through which we choose to view this world and only then a semblance of peace some shred of meaning to clutch to our chest some token that our life meant something as we shambled blindly towards our death the cries of the damned welcome me home our life cycle is just recycled life we just take up space until we die our demise may as well be preordained is it anywonder we couldn t care less the black orb of another sun rising another day to watch our dreams dying sometimes i feel like i m disappearing seeking comfort in banality