what the fuck Is going on?

(Edvard Munic's - The screamer)

I am blazing high into the night and fitfully illuminating my thoughts. Fuck you! The seven letters hemmed in by the dark sigh that followed after the letter u. In truth, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. A candle had been lit at an evening dinner at about eight o’clock, before I had driven nude and skinless through the snow without any clear thought of what the fuck was going on. I roared and laughed, disappointed by reality. I have forwarded this so called reality to a fiction state of mind, edging into some type of understanding. Thus sped this demonic feeling along my course of thought, until, quivering among my own face gestures, I had realized I didn’t know what was going on. I knew the tune; it was a familiar one stored in the back of my mind. The feeling of confusion. Maddened with despair, I laughed loud and long. Did my mind grasp any of this, at such a rate that I seemed to fly past its course rather than to walk or run it through my head? What the fuck was going on? Driven to the deepest road where my imagination lingered uncontrollably, I started to express myself. Changing as the seasons would, the coldness overgrown my thoughts, and within hours, the fire slowly came into the picture. Back to the candle light dinner when things were the other way around. The candle resembles fire and the snow, well its snow ladies and gentlemen, and she, well she deserved the “fuck you!”