Delusional Illusion- Angina Obsession

Heartache..

I condemn love.

This is part of the literature of dry amphibians.

Their eyes never got wet,

Crying has become a miracle.

To be loved is a difficult blessing to reach,

Yet loving is so easy.

A child waiting in the dark, with a teddy bear with torn arms in hand,

Awaiting the needles and the knitwork to pierce their skin in fear.

A young girl with a knife in hand,

Forced to live and love unwillingly when she is about to stab it to relieve her chest pain.

In a pond where euthanasia is a hazy dream;

Amphibians are struggling not to stay dry, swimming with their waterproof skins to reach the water.

Nature’s vampires are laying their eggs in filth only to be parasites for the world,

Their blood pouches are horribly full for the newcomers.

Those who exploit others, those who want to remove their own battery of life, those who are forced to live and are hypnotized to live...

I condemn love.

These are merely dramatic lyrics of dry amphibians.

Their eyes never cried throughout their lives.

You always want to laugh but your mouth is stitched shut,

You want to blink from fatigue but are always forced to sleep on your feet.

“The fear of death is useless” has become a motto.

Terrifying scenarios haunts their minds,

Somes are even more frightening than the death.

It seems this world’s issue is not about being happy or not,

But living and merely living.

Aquatic creatures, unable to keep hearts full of souls enslaved to love and deprived of the right to hate.

The construction of nihilism that vacuums and swallows emotions,

And in this strange sea that is only part of the literature of dry amphibians,

I condemn love.

How strange and painful it is to have hope, that sweet thing, not in dreams but in reality.

Because in dreams there is no need for hope;

We don’t hope in dreams, it doesn’t even cross our minds.

Hope, as if only to play a fake happiness like there’s a cure for helplessness and maybe a slight motivation tool.

There is no place for helplessness in dreams, those which exists are merely a painful scenario to create a random event under the name of drama.

We excuse this chest pain with the traumas we’ve experienced and it is so right barely.

Not because ending life is a silly idea and we know it’s silly.

I condemn the love for death.

We hope to drift away with the current in this literary work.

Even if we can’t cry, the water that wets our face gives this effect enough.

We might still feel dry and pale, and we might miss the blood that doesn’t flow from within us, but this action-filled breathing as we drift in the sea gives us enough of this nonexistent sweat effect.

I thought I was wrong when I said respecting life is mandatory,

For a moment I felt like part of a delusional illusion and a beginningless cycle.

Would I be able to say these if I didn’t enjoy these heartaches?

Maybe pain adds spice to our literature.

A pink flame that warms our hearts and still goes on alive in the water,

It’s infatuated with us

But I still condemn love.

The fact that the soul is very real and love is not a lie might be the main thing that forms our literature.

This is a reflection, a realistic illusion, and a happy moment.

That child who's waiting in that dark corner,

A young boy with his gun to his head,

A girl holding her lighter in her hands,

A young girl grazing her toy knife on her chest…

They all continued their lives without taking their own lives in their quest to create meaning in their lives.

Because their dramas couldn’t bring them to the wetness they desired.

They turned this rich pond of dry amphibians into a jacuzzi for their pleasure.

In the midst of meaninglessness, they created a feast and a pleasure water.

They stayed afloat with their fears, problems, and loves.

I believe my supposed dislike for life is just a delusional illusion.

In this dramatic piece I created, I feel I belong somewhere.

Uttering the word hate is shameful and I didn’t need to use the word hate in this piece except for this sentence.

Because hate without revenge and unwilling evil is called “not loving.”

It’s so innocent not to love.

It’s like the opposite of loving.

Sometimes they work together even if we don’t realize it.

Their symbiotic union is a life motto for us.

And I only say this with this motto:

Even if I can be uneasy in the midst of peace, this will never tire me.

In fact, I feel wetter, cooler, and more peaceful than ever, and this is how I also will feel on further ways.