My body....

It just came to my boiled head; no judgment please – thoughts under the fever 101’ F:

…Why do we say “my body”? It is not mine. It is out of our hands. It is getting thick, olden out of our wish. Its like a robe, given to us by someone for a trial period, for an imprisonment into our own “I”. Bcs when its finally full spoiled, our rent period is over!

The one, who sewed all the robes was surely making them without any inspiration. As a result, he very seldom was creating masterpieces, sometimes simply good/well-done pieces, but then the designer must be resting: fashioned hastily, just embossed, hands…legs….done…next one…POT-BOILER! So many people arre suffering bcs of  his dishonesty.

But it’s a more fuck up when he – unknown designer, had worked hard and really gave you  a personable, beautiful look-up, and you got used to it, …….but suddenly he hijacks his ouwn gift!

And its not about Cinderella case, when after the  stroke her beautiful dress returns into a baggers’ clothes.  No, he acts like a Pervert sadist: spoils the costume slowly, one part after another, piece after piece, though blow-by-blow! Here picks of a patch,,, there  undo a steam… And there is no chance to break away from his bloody arms, no any chance!

We all know, that finally everyone of us will start to become older and older, however we all live like it will never happen to us. As if we ve got an immortal youth .

But the day when a mirror will remind you: there is no immortality, and endless youth , this day will come. And it is your turn now – take as a prove your first wrinkle or grey hair!

It was something like a silly thoughts bcs of nothing to do and bcs of a terrible looking face that was watching me today from the bath mirror!))))))))))