World Wide Suicide

Life’s poor. Branded by millions of fools, plumed into smoke by millions of smokers (It makes me feel light though, thinking about the smoke) and finally tied into the fallacy of beauty by millions of morons, sex-driven morons. I am not afraid to talk and beguile you with my possibilities of a world-wide-suicide. The star light will fall some day, oh yes, it will. To our utter imagination, all men will run towards each other that day. To guide one another into the brilliance of death. To know the precise graphics of all the skyscrapers that will be assaulted and that will watch death with that exact precise smile. But there will be closely preserved paintings and there will be minutely guarded poems. Someone will be assigned this particular job. I don’t know why but somebody will be bound to this inheritance. I hope it’s me.
The woman in red won’t say a word to her lover again. She will know the importance of nothingness. Her lover will not be afraid to walk off. The lightening of the biggest lying truth will strike them both and there will be a sweet siren song only that is written to protect souls.

Souls are empty here though. They say “I have got a feeling” but it’s a null fulminating. When everybody will realize this emptiness, they will counter to make it all the more grand and all the more colored. People are like this only. They like only gold but these colors will be new. They will have no names because we have seen them only once. When? When we were still unborn.

And that will be the ultimatum. When the void will collide with this world, there will be deaths, magnificent deaths. And everybody will reach to his right kind of drug. Then there will be no one and yet everyone.