Venting September yellow yellow huhuuuu

[Lavínia]

Hi people! Hi! I gesture with my hands, my mouth pops! It expands, contracts, and produces, gives life to vivid vibrations marking our friendly contract! Hi people? Hello, do you want to die? Too bad, another month, here lies, another month for us! How about not dying? They play games, right? Who are they? I don't know, but something constantly pushes, forces on a throat, doesn't allow it to contract, if it tries, makes it laugh, to keep pushing this mud.
In another deja vu. In another marker. In another date, a fixed number, a narrow and simplistic symbol soon to be forgotten. How many people want you to die? How many people want you not to die? Does this number matter? Does something we think and fight for matter? That was never the point, right? Pleasure, just for that. Another yellow, green, red, and blue. Another color. Another song. Another fixed repetition, a tinkle. Another. Another. Something that holds us back, makes us feel pressure, more pressure, more pressure, and then blaaahhh. Die. All pleasure is like this: food, rest, and that disgusting thing they call affection. Death too, life is just a construction for her, so they'll make us suffer again. Another month!!! Yellow! Yellow! Yeelllooooooow my friends