What feeling?

what is there to think about
to talk about
to die for
to feel and know what exactly led to this drawing
beyond my own practice and how i do things
feeling the shame
only every night i see these pillows
covering my face
this face is no longer one but...

this face has shown its true side
and there aint nothing pretty about it
there is nothing to be understood by these words
scrambled by chances of thoughts
and memory, memories of pain
and loneliness
a true man deserves nothing but solitude
is that the case?

monkeys sing their song
and bananas fly
over the sky and there is no b-day
and celebration
but the funerals and they come...

run after this world
as death runs after us ...