forecast

Sigh;

What's new?

Drenched in confusion of all of them perfumes.

Oh, what a sad tune.

I thought I got my stars all aligned.

But mistaken, was I? None of my truths were true.

It was just the regular forecast.

Now I just sit down, smoke my tobacco, drink my tea, and watch the fan running its cold blows on my bare skin.

Thinking about what I did and what I could've done.

Another dawn-less day for my questions had no dusk.

Another sunless morning for my moon didn't properly shine.

I just want to figure it all out.

Get what's missing from my pixels.

Get what's wrong with my chart.

And spread another tarot reading.

Sectioned in towers, 10 of swords and a fool.

A fool wondering if he can reach, from realizations, his ultimate world.

And me and the fool shares lots in common,

He's joyful and naive and I'm not.

He's blind and I can see.

But he's hopeful and young.

And so am I.

My face could yet be clear of wrinkles of time.

But my synapses suffer from linking a new memory to another chronic philosophy.

And my body is in awe from me missing another meal.

But my chemicals shine from my glory and I'm happy.

That I didn't seal the deal.

And that my words are still real.

Another spread is spread.

And a lot of words were said.

To answer the question.

If I'll contribute to the mear death of me?