This young carnal and dat old mind

There’s a young man feeling old

Trying to induce that dat dead feeling in his veins

He fights hard to induce something he calls reality

He builds his own prison, trying to immunize himself from the turbulence of this world.

He appreciates an old man’s beard, he eyes the excitement of a stalled life.

He feels he can do all he wants in that small prison of his own.

That prison he builds brick by brick, every brick he lays gives him courage to lay the next one. Every moment of joy he denies that awaits him outside those strong walls, he tastes victory. He wears his own grace in his own eyes. He carefully watches every breath a possible intruder takes beyond those walls, yet not reacts.

He’s dat stranger who can rob all your serenity and gift you all dat undying fervour dat ‘ll force u to serve all his fancies with ur coat of honour off ur stinking carnal.

He believes dat a graveyard is a glimpse of wicked future in your foolish present
He worships it.

He finds solace in graveyard, there he feels enlightened and proud.
Every second he wastes in building, he hastens to his desire Of being old, vacuous, void, simple, immune and close to reality.

He loves his vaccum dare not intrude u might hurt urself, u’ll enter wid grace and will end up gifting him all before leaving.u’ll leave wid memories, he’ll have none.

Ur absence is all he desires, dis is something he won’t ever tell u. He won’t show u da exit but it’ll be there right in front of u everywhere in his prison. U may enter, he won’t stop u, he appreciates human concern (if any), he respects human anxiety but he’ll doubt ur faith.

He scoffs behind ur back, at ur inability to affect him, for he believes u deserve it.
It’s That young man who has written this.
Pray for the young man and forgive him, he’s little too young