The return of the Psychotropic Wanderlust.

Stick figures and dark clouds…those have been my thoughts lately…mostly at night when the air whistles and doesn’t hold back,the weak hearted sleep soundly in the comfort of suffocating fabric..
Even light pays its respects..
today a girl told me a man’s story begins at home..I couldn’t agree,maybe i could, but i chose not to..I chose not to because I would not.
maybe this is just me,without giving any thought to it being me,after all i am i not? Have we met? this drives me crazy sometimes,it is infact puzzling if i might add.
Stick figures are fighting aimlessly and without direction..its not a nice thing to do,but who am i to judge,why should i care about how morally unjust a stickie is? they must have heard me thinking aloud because now they have stopped,I find it rather odd that our thoughts like to spy on us..they listen to everything they say carefully,and once they realise they can hear themselves they suddenly stop and pretend like its all fine,classic espionage my stickies right now,no more conflict,who do they deceive?…who do i deceive? I think i have the world figured out,but in all honesty I could just be another kid who came up way too fast..nothing surprises me anymore,or excites story should begin here but to have a beginning there should be a calculated end,right? i ask you,where did this begin? where did you begin? are you religious or would you rather go with much simpler theories..or no theories at all..for all you know you could be a stick figure,we could all be stickies and not know it,i bet this little guy in my head thinks he’s operating in his most conscious levels ,if he knew he was being ridiculed,would it hurt his pride?would he rather have his little ego stroked?..or crushed?,help him out of his mysery?
its a long night,as all nights,day would come soon,alarms will go off,maybe a bomb even,somewhere distant,if i you’re lucky you could hear it echo like your heart does,when you are alive and not dead…my story ends here..but it never actually began did it ? call me twisted i don’t are just the same as me,wouldn’t you agree? after all we’re all made out the same thing,mud i think? star stuff? or if you share my notion,stick figure material..Its not that hard to cave in,to give in to compromise You can be whatever the hell you want,nobody’s really watching..its all a great game without rules,but whatever your onions may be just make sure your food comes out cooked right..
I will proceed to find solace in my darkness while you whine about how bad the world is,it’s okay to be weak and faint spend your nights under the comforts of suffocating fabric,wet your pillows with blood and tears and watch me laugh in the dark about how you could be stronger and more apathetic,but we are all who we are aren’t we?
The daylight has come it hurts my eyes,it’s beautiful yet toturing at the same time,I will never get your type…I will forever be Puzzled,but I can deal with that..its the way I have been wired. Rehoboth Iyobosa

By bosarehoboth