the wrong question

the obvious is easy to catch, like a fish refusing to drown, how can it? the unclear is a mixed bag, like being tossed into deep ocean, with only theory to go by. theories are nice, they don't snarl, bite or bark - are always forgiving because it is graded with alphabets. real life is biting bullets, without a life vest treading water, till legs go numb. but the crowd goes on their daily business, it seems they're a reflection of you, scouting for danger, looking for apples. the murky water, the fog is more dangerous than a lake of fire, for the former seems benign, almost seductive! you see - fogs make dreams, they could be anything you want them to be, till it snaps, chews down on a rapid beating heart. life is an enchanting tale, when theories sit on ivory towers, dishing out armors the soldiers find impractical. then the tailors come to make adjustments, you see it must be the fault of reality, when armors do not fit - adjustments fail to comprehend the beast, whose fangs are many twisted forks, and they like to sink in slow. and you are becoming, you are enlarged, with many distance made from home. tall, taller than the sky, the home is a dot, like a pebble on a beach while the mist swirls, spins and colors up a tower littered with many splotches of reality covered in finely tuned frequencies of that radio channel. your favorite one. then the distance between home and you, i reaches heaven's gate frowning when the pieces of lies one by one are dismantled. swirling euphoria descends to hard earth, with many open jaws hungry for food and they have a very different version of reality when all that smoke has finally cleared.