Musings Of A Disoriented Critter

The pointlessness of a life craving a point Never well understood, never will be Chasing after unreal dreams, even though so real Seemingly real, do we chase Why?

I woke up this day to meet my routine: of mindless clatter, and muffled chatter- of keys and notes and static on my screen; Numbing my mind, nibbling my thoughts. There I sat waiting, waiting for nothing. There I sat lost, lost in my head; Lost of the memories- of the days that past: yellow meadows yonder, yellow warmth of wonder. What is it that changed?? Melancholy, 1894 by Edvard Munch