pleasures not for sale

pleasures not for sale

my life is made of pleasures but they are finicky and mean - I shall grant you no pleasure unless you discover how to settle and calm your heart, oh your poor little heart - that beats as fast as this conundrum does. Oh I do feel like a boy trapped in a velvet house how could I let myself be trapped in this cage? Should I shout to the world how much I care about it? My life is made of precious pleasures I am willing to share to anyone who wanders around. I wonder why there is a gun laying on the table. I wonder what will happen If I pull its trigger. Well, nothing else than nothingness, I suppose. Life is made of treasures, fleeting but strange. It is made of discoveries, eerie and nonsense. And I like the nonsense. I drink it every morning and every evening. From dawn to dusk every ounce of nonsense that pours down my stomach fills me with a strange feeling of happiness and rejoicement. And I feel nurtured. As if.. as if... nobody told you why and how the heart works. It is a wicked clockwork machine for sure. But I cannot tell you how many times I've been distressed by this cruel mechanism. Let me open the window for you and put away the mugs of tea for they serve no purpose anymore. Let me close the windows of your soul for they serve no purpose to me anymore. Let me disbelieve; these feelings ; let me become unconscious until I gasp and guzzle with this mediocre dream of mine; Set me free of this illusion - This childish dream of mine... from the depths of my tainted soul I adore you but I implore to be refused - I can never never never be truly ____ good bye.