What the Fuck?


A standing ovation to doubt.

Intangible instincts.

Limited to prison cell; one conjured by oblivion. Of different context, but it's a silent treatment as someone said it was. Flourished by endless laughter but damned by muted conversations; I dare not seek jeopardy. To taste of such humane mental-torture and torment, what more could there be to engrave it's name on a wrecked mind. A nation's third degree of education; an opportune of utter distaste for what has been deemed insanity of regulation.


Yes, I am bothered.

And today I witnessed a death without scars,
Of a man of 99; he has never drove a motorized car.
He got me my meals back when I was 9,
Then it hit a transition when I gave back; like tithes.

This man of 99; face wrinkled by time,
A magnificent smile of a man in love,
A smile cherished by a lady down 9 years.
They held hands, there was no retaliation,
This man of 99 breathe his last words.

Now here he lays, unscathed and unharmed,
Off springs lay silent; mumbling their lines.
As aged as he once was, they held their tears,
Praying to a god they wish was looking down from above.

Praying for this man...this great and mighty man,who lived... to 99.
- grandpa

A caption in time, burnt by decomposition; faded. Fascination from a clouded scene, like the Moulin Rouge on standby. I stand to scout, of a hit-man hidden; masked by the crowd. Bang.