Let this window be your inanimate reincarnation kid.
The mysteries will soon dissolve into meaningless answered molecules.
See there’s this fantasy parade passing through the edge of your mortal house,
Grab them by their collars and let them sink through your transitory soul.
Milks and cookies all good, gulp them before running through this inconsistent mother earth.
Snatch away that cane from the old man and let him ascend the rocky surface all alone onto the zenith of this humanity.
Your 3 by 5 wooden space is calling you with an age old song and some ancient broken stories by it’s side.
Look, a girl is passing through the hungry souls with all glittering qualities.
She needs you, only your human sense, your enlightenment benith her surface can save her.
Move away from that self obsessive, pseudo intellectual moving screen of yours.
Look away there’s a fully functional hell of a ride outside, that old man and that girl can use ur generous help once more.
Let the puberty come only through masterbation, sex, beers, bikes and and a beard; not through your soul.
Read Hemingway if you want, sitting on a bench besides the lakes of Amsterdam.
Fading fantasies and cold milkshakes are authorized but not the blurred eyes and broken introspection.
Breath the air with a vision or not my friend but never ignore that window’s calling.
It’s your gateway.