collector

I moved from thinking to living,
but it seems I took my thinking machinery with me,
which feels like hiding at a public place,
like I'm wearing a mask of my own face.

Surrounded by a thousand choices,
picking whatever I like.
I'm hungry for another story,
which might fit my greedy needs.

Reading their needs in their eyes.
Ignoring others consequences,
they should decide for themselves.
Selfish, arrogantly wasting.

...processing all the influences,
...
...working hard on draining them out,


...just another draft...

A thousand scars