An Obsessive Contemplation

Before the dawn of another day, a mind demanding answers to unanswerable inquiries attempts to organize the random thoughts and events tossed into an unrecognizable heap; all seemingly too real to tear apart and analyze.

A stoplight flashes Red, Green, Blue, Purple...

Gray, the color of an endless sky searching for its eternal companion; lost in the horizon, fallen to places unknown, possibly to where unsettled minds find a place, a vivid dream, where they can hide away; for the time being.

People, places, events and choices pound at a cluttered stream, a concept known as time.
Birth, death, and the red tape in between slowly and unconsciously grows into a fetish to exist.

The ability to buy life in the form of metal, plastic and other substance is handed out to those who willingly fork out some of the “God” they have saved up; giving the precious, growing number of people a chance to stay and compete in a marathon to see who can get the most out of life for nothing. In the end, the first place winner and last place both meet the same destiny.

Past inventions look forward to an American ideal: the BIGGER, faster, and better looking as equal to the best product. Only $19.95! has become the going rate for a full set of any artists “collection” of cassettes to the sale price on a human’s soul. Consumers are indifferent and everything has its selling price. Searching for something? It can be found in the wanted or selling ads in the daily newspaper, which may or may not have made it to yesterday’s landfill.

Music plays continuously in the hearts of the lucky, yet never with words. It defines the answers a lost soul searches in all the wrong places for. A catchy tune which ends up stuck in the back of the head and anyone can replicate without hesitation, deciphers into a universal solvent for those blind to the discarded hopes and dreams of a society content with destiny of becoming a mirror to everyone else.

Our world is full of ignorance doubt and war, irrational, yet it proceeds.

An audible cry fills the darkness and is translated into a plea for stability by those who live every day knowing it could be their last, believing regret is a word used only by those who don’t live, but simply daydream safely “in the comfort of their own homes”; constantly thinking,“What If...?” , instead of taking any risk which may lead to failure.

Hopeless shadows crawl willing toward the nearest exit sign, trying to escape, believing it is the only way out.

Originality and individuality are qualities of the uninstitutionalized and are almost extinct. Only the warped and mutated version is accepted and used to promote the homogenization of a country known for its diversity.

The “All Mighty Dollar” has become a God and is worshiped by those unhappy with the gifts they already possess.

For them, happiness is unattainable. In the end they will scramble for the leftovers of their past hopes and dreams, made up of the fragmented memories of their rushed youth. They will remember when they lived for themselves and not for the illusion that society has attacked the harmless name “The American Dream.”

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