IMITATION FASHION

Like hypocritical doubters, they stumble towards obscure, dark pages. Every career step taken towards a more comfortable, predictable, but treacherous promise is a sawed-off rung only for failure and success. They shake after every sip.

Their otherworldly crypt representation is an embalmed mummy skeleton after frothy sips. They believe that the provably uncertain map of their future can create plenty of proud bubbles even behind their grimaces.

The future can only be a reflection of the sticky present. It quickly darkens to average career opportunities. With a pounding heart, the calendar days of the year trudge harder and harder. He who loudly proclaims and kneads and grinds himself will perish in an arbitrary time.

He who expects wounds and mean merits at the same time will repent of this present false, dishonest world sooner than many sons of nobody have gone to Nirvana. Existence knocks on everyone's door unexpectedly, suddenly, just like a comic ax swing.

Among twisted, gagged, hieroglyphic, half-mad crips, it is increasingly difficult for the healthy deranged or spontaneously half-hearted to find their place. Social media also favors lying provocateurs by conveying cosmic, hypocritical prosperity.

Carrying the torch of our own fears, everyone needs to dig their own grave and pay for it in their meager lives. Unspoken authority seems to be strained, even after the fake palm break it boils again.