We're living in times where everything gets absorbed by sameness and vulgarity.

Funny how there have always been thousands of attempts at building the perfect society in real life and books and movies, but they all have a bad start right from the basic fact that they make it with humans who, as we all know, are far from perfect, so perfection will always be an impossibility. 

Poem "I am" by John Clare

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best
-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky.

[first heard in "Penny Dreadful" series]

... because we are human

and we feel and we gasp for air

even when we know there's no air

and that our end is coming.

how nice it is to possess nothing but the freedom of truth and the acceptance of reality

Only when you're utmost true to yourself can you be entirely free. The is no other way to it. And then yes, truth sets you free.

Like many people around the world who don't have the basic conditions of living secured, I just wished I had a safe and peaceful place to live, where I could sleep and eat well.
It's exhausting when you don't have the basics in order to survive with the minimum standards for living and plus no bliss at all to make you keep going.
It has been so much time now and it doesn't come to an end. Enduring just for nothing is too damn perverse.

Larger than life

When you're better and larger than life, you don't fit in her and neither does she in you.
You've got people writing poems for you, you've got them composing songs for you, making you their inspiration.
And all that because you've lived lives larger than life.

Lacking bliss and fascination to continue...

The Artist

Silver hair
golden skin
never fat
always thin

Never sold a poem
or a painting,
wouldn't even try it.

Knew hunger and cold
knew pain and gold

Just an artist as told.