My Head's Lament

These sentimental words hold no purpose to my atrificial being that serves as my bliss, moving with feeling and a change of sorrows that my emotions are happily dismissed; I flee with the delights of the subconscious that paints my perculiar thoughts in privacy whispering the beauty of the palatial mind that in sobriety works with erect hypocrisy; I travel through the gardens and the desert where I loose myself in utter humour and reflect with colour on what I missed that grows reveries of nostalgia like a tumour; I sit in a market where an unfortunate child stares at me without knowledge of courtesy, void of abstraction and linguistics, he stares, and I stare knowing the emotion of mercy but I stare without empathy to this little bastard who sleeps in a box in an ally to my disgust for my mind travels away from this existence to a state of omnipotency and immense lust.