I pity the painters. Shuffling side to side at various positions not knowing how much pressure can a canvas take, force a brush stick needs, proper density of color gradient that reveal a true work of art and he is still trying to perfect beauty of an imperfect piece.

I see lovers contemplating on how deep to fall when depth shields off ultra-violets of loneliness, but sudden return from the core depth of sweetest thing could cause psychological disturbance on human mind. Now left wondering if investing in emotional connection could make it last longer than forever.

Delusional neurologic that drives my conscious contra versing with reality captured by sight, leaving my indecisive mind puzzled on which logical inference to write the internal state. Still I am trying to grasp control of my doings.

As I watch the sunset, life feels like I am one leg standing on seesaw, 25 kg strapped on other side of the pivot restlessly toggling. I got my arms stretched out, clueless of how much I weigh but still calculating point of equilibrium with unknown center of mass, trying to find the balance.