Recommended song to dress your background with, while you read <<
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THE SHADOW YOU THOUGHT YOU’D ALMOST GRASPED…
Bliss or fear, choose your player. Time kills per hour. It’s tragic how we think we’ve got plenty, when actually… the icon showing is a low battery. THE ITCH THAT SHOWED UP AT SOCIAL GATHERINGS... You’re pretty when you’re smiling, surrounded by your peers. Pretending to be communicating. Pronunciation of empty promises. WHY AM I OUT THERE IN THE WORLD, WHEN I COULD BE HOME?! ______________________
//A constant longing for this very instant where fears and shadows overcome and overwhelm the brain cells with a sense of atrocious sensuality. A forced invitation to feel for once the pain of artists and to embody their cursed prestige – some ripped off ecstasy.//
ON N'AVAIT RIEN VU VENIR...
ARE WE THE MOST NAKED WHEN WE’RE ALONE?______________________________
They might call it hiding. Rather name it contemplating. Recharging. Loading. Something along the lines of beauty. Sometimes even: a blessing.
The luxury that you pick. To rebuild. Only for the rich, maybe. Time to dress in your favourite void, the prettiest of the killings. Diving into the void, genius of your own envies. That Friday evening, when you put your red lipstick on for you and you only. Taking that distance, surrounding yourself with beauty. And the wine, accordingly. Too many questions. All choked up. BRONCHO on repeat. Imagining you’re in the new Wolf Alice music video, making up for the saturated spleen. We’ll all end up alone, don’t you know? Face to face with our faces.
The glamour promises to be real with all these wrinkles glowing.
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J’crois qu’on avait pas compris à quel point la solitude épanouit. It’s so terrifying, you’d tell me, sitting with myself close to midnight. Deliciously dark. A vampires’ tale for young kids – the sexual tension missing.
Don’t lie, you dig it.
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You’re out of battery. NON-EXISTENT. Time wasted. No selfies availability. You’ve never been here if you can’t prove it. Reconsider your trajectory. Calculate the agony. Process the tragedy.
When you think you’re lonely, there’s a potential gain in lucidity. Cancelling the lingering white noise spat with excess, rewiring to get the thinking going. EGO with a positive outcome. You would struggle filtering it since the audience is absent. Is it even relevant?
WE MUTED THE SOLITUDE.
Drawing it like a social failure that was never meant to be, when actually if more would practice it. . . Empathy would become altruistic. Less of the mutual masturbation. Superficial enhancement of the other's pretended success. i.e. his way of dressing. 
