To describe my soul is frustration. Violent searching, scratching. To define my faith, my fate. Craving badly. Fervent laughing. There is a certain need before there is chaos. How much would you pay before you lose your life. Is greed justified when we all need to live? What we don’t care, we learn to react. React to nothing. I wait for the frenzy, the wild world of finding food. One day you’ll get trampled. Our bodies torn to pieces by the contents of our pockets. Salivating to stay alive. We’re all manipulated by the idea that someone else will take what we have, so we scream. It’s survival of the fittest. Do I need principle if I don’t need to chase happiness, salvation. And if no salvation, would we all still live. Salivating salvation, etavilas. Deed and deeD. Where we put our words, our hands, it doesn’t matter. It’s all bad luck. Fill our heads, make us afraid. Make us spend our money on our own destruction. Let us watch our own death. Without faith, fate, etaf, htiaf. A world without frustration.