The not excused, not adopted

I had been approached like nothing it before?
I was executed with hunger!
A famine of thoughts;
my thoughts -
of famine:
- and diseased I became.
The very, experimented.
How I not suffer fools gladly.
I risked not.
I have not a fear of failure.
I have not a fear of weather.
The weather I predict in what I feel, now.
Today, was.
Tomorrow, is.
Is not, the fear of being.
If yesterday, if only yesterday
I thought to myself.
That tomorrow. . . my only fear would be,
what would it be for.
What would I tell it.
That I fear not being happy,
and to be happy should come without fear,
of myself.
That to be happy means how we
gravitated to the meaning itself.
The meaning of what is a universe filled with
happiness in euphoria.
The sense of belonging into a world.
Out in the world of fashion sense.
A fashion.
A sense of.
Translated only into fashion sense,
we gathered there.
That sense of self esteem,
no longer wasted potential or
sensed vulnerability were a caused thing.
A thing caused because of only fashion sense,
and not happiness in the world.
That pretensions of it, were a thing that pretended
in happiness.
But the truth of happiness, were acting the lie.
Was happiness all that would have mattered in the universe.
In a universe with thoughts,
and here we make happiness a model of it.
Though in fantasy we are only afraid not to think of what,
makes us infinitely superior to us.
We forget about not feeling as happy,
as we forget being sad.
In reality of a happiness,
sadness is unacceptable.
There is a choice to be made.
Only a choice.
I expressed it as a virtue.
It fuels my hunger into unspoken thoughts,
unheard of after.
As I whistled them into tune,
and percussion and precision.