cosa mentale

The day proceeded quite slowly. The typical je ne sais quoi that is intrinsic to life; things to do, things to say. I went for a car ride and I tried to smile, but it simply hurt. This mood has taken over me; I can hardly recognize myself. Just hold me, baby, please?

You’re just a fool, I think. You don’t know anything about me, so why this raging?

So what if I lie, so what if I pretend to be lost in the gravity of felicity; it’s just how I try to cope. And you just lie about me. ‘You’re a nothing.’

Glorious confusion whose ring is euphonious only to the deft; gad, I am blind as to not realize.

This is my world, una cosa mentale. But wasn’t it better together?

So let me pretend to be okay and smile, create a kaleidoscope of fictitious sensibilities. To-morrow shall be the same.

Somehow I knew what to do before, and now I simply don’t know what to do. So would you please, tell me what it is that I must do?