I don't mean much.
I am a speck in this ever-turning world of billions of faces.
2+2=5, and the truth could never be clearer.
I am an artist. This is my cross.
To be awed at, but never appreciated.

My mode of operation is two-dimension thinking.
I keep my world from growing ignoring all perspective.
In perfect isolation I freeze my lust for learning.
In stillness beauty lingers as rivers in the winter.
My senses tuned to nothing a nervous system shutdown.
In blissful meditation I'm safe from simulations.