Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“Death over life sounds cowardice, but isn’t life over death sounds too repetitive, too much mechanical like always, there’s no life left in life itself as it appears and even life seems to be screaming for a little of death, maybe that would help it to feel how being alive feels. What could be more tragic than life asking for a little death to feel alive, yet this is how it ends and often. He could see himself walking down the same line. He felt intense desire to feel a little death for life had grown all over him like fungi grows around water bodies, as if brightness had eclipsed the darkness, for the moon didn’t appear drunk anymore and twilight felt as if a blank screen he spent days staring at. He was scared of turning into a zombie walking in broad daylight, for he was a monster made to roam around in the dead of night, where he could get high licking his own blood and sniffing over his burnt lungs. He gulped down goblets anticipating it would help him recover, alas! He tried to stab him, hang him, cut himself into pieces but Life had grown too thick upon him and the death eluded him.  He cried, screamed with all his might, asking for a little of death, alas! Life gods had other plans for him, probably they wanted him to suffer, for he was too alive for life, for he was dead being alive, for he drank to death and danced upon his grave. For he knew he belongs to nowhere, but buried beneath shadows of faces he had owned all his life. Alas!”