Is it right to want to be disconnected,
from the erethral astral light,
the neon glow burning though out the night,
stray vision peering through the mental atmosphere,
stars spinning everywhere,
then why me, born unto this tiny speck,
of dust that I am here at all,
Spiraling around empty space,
only to die once my body is spent,
as well as the rest of the human race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem