The complection of the simple things.

By: Serjio Serrano

I.

I.

I. So simple.

The letter of a great meaning yet the letter of an intervention only mastered by one of it’s own self. I am not. I am. What do i say? questions? no answers.

Simile to a interpretation categorizing your self, to be heard, to be known, to say something closed minded not thinking of your surrounding’s only concentrating on “I” what am I? what can i be?

Questions? no answers.

I am.

I am closed in to a world of solitary, mind bending experiences of ultra censored corruption, stuck in thoughts of false past’s and un coming futures, withered trees scream, blood stained grass shiver, cold sun blooming day light haze, fallowing monsters breath beneath devils waists, i paint the skies red, color the seas grey, mix the moon white, swipe and shower and wet and blow and send winds of hades private hell! this world turn black from my desire!

I am. What i dream to be.

I want. What my dream was.

I want.

You.