Prologue

I want to say a lot.Draw my speech in cursive, lay it down flat on a piece of paper, recite it out loud, rhyme it out then pull it off it's lines and pronounce it in my mouth. I want to speak a lot about me and myself and everything existent in the nonexistent, similar to my desire to not exist anymore and sometimes exist so much that people just forget about me. I'm a mass of atoms they say, I'm a mass. A heavy baggage of flesh with thoughts and hopes and dreams which were shattered by your God that decided to kill me, the very day I was born. No, I don't no God, I don't know his divine plans but so it is for you. I've only seen death and violence in the name of mercy and sometimes I feel like smoking off that grease, you call life out of my heart, cut it off my heart and give it to a museum in return for some money that might make my life good. The point of my life they say is death and knowing that I build myself acquainted sometimes with things that are then mercilessly torn off of me. "Don't care about aging!" Then why do you neglect old people, why do they lie all alone in there homes waiting for death to knock their doors cause you say you have work and they don't.Will you give me the exception theory now?. "Don't care about looks... It's the heart that matters", then why do you buy buttered soaps and look twice at the girl with a dimpled smile and that guy with a handsome face and take four days to be friends with an person with no good looks, does ugliness give you trust issues? but what if beauty was different, what if lizards grew from fruit trees and you found those beautiful? Why are you all such hypocrites, some aware and others unaware of the everyday shit that you do and call it life, unfairness is life, death is life, violence is life everything is life then what is death? What is it and why is it? I want to speak a lot but I never do cause you shut me off, always like I'm some joke, a clown that you laugh at when you've nothing better to do, why do you say you'd listen, when know you won't? When your head is cramped with your own worries at home or maybe you're just the way you are, a heartless wretch like everyone else , now what will you do if I ever called you that in the middle of the road, will you run? Will you beat me up or will you just blame God, for devising you like that?. ... Or is it God,that's the victim and you hopeless hazards took his heaven and made a hell out of it....I want to speak a lot but I won't....