Breakthrough A Mess

Four years is not a long time, nor a short time,
Bur a time I live with myself, with my wondering thoughts.
Waiting is never boring, nor meaningful,
But a extreme huge job for the next, the next day, the next guy, the next lose, the next success,
Or maybe,the next nothing.
Open your lackluster eyes,
But remember, only squeeze out a small open,
Make it a scope that just you one knows it is open.
Then, wake up your empty stomach,
Tamping it with surroundings,
Include fake smiles, real hurts,careless insolicitudes and strange selfishnesses.
Soon, the stomach is full.
Pat it, as sweet and soft as you can,
Let it fall into a enclosure,
Which is isolated with the external world.
Quick! Never mind.
Running! Left leg, right leg, force this two alternating with every passing second.
Consuming the excesive energy, collapsing the four limbs, baffling the numb heart,
The last, drowning the small opend eyes.
Close them, tightly padlocked.
Draw out your smothering encephalon.
Walking, dancing, circling, and speaking.
Have you found? The field of your vision is totally dark,
Except you, everybody can discover nothingness than anythingness.
As for you, dark is bright and colourfull.
Keep on closing your eyes, which are two windows prying into the human world.
Spinning, round and round, like a moth,
Throwing away the excrements, which have been stored in your dizzy stomach for days.
Bad things are cast off thoroughly.
Open the two dazzling precious stones and kiss all creatures that jump into your sight.
Show a naive face, sing a cordial song, dedicate true affection.
What? Really? You see the light, a ray of light from your dreamland?
Beautiful,like a blooming lily in a rainy morning.
Walking outside your room, and breathing salubrious benevolence to save your dying stomach.