Just now I have almost lost the meaning of life
Ok, lets the love die
lets dive into the abyss
with those bloody witches
you’ll win
after all, we cannot longer contain the explosion of malaise
the boredom is eating us like fish and chips
I have no more dreams
Lets us all go mad in this boring madness
all this stupidity
so what
they always win those bastards
so let them win
It was a bitter trial
I don’t know how many steps I still need to take to step out of the chaos
maybe the emptiness is good
without the witchcraft and darkness lurking
without anything particularly interesting
maybe the nenufares
in the barrel
are better
than all that
deadly
luxury
and the ambitions of the dead.
I am not interested in my own thoughts anymore
The Machine does it for me
I just lie there
contemplating these four flies at the ceiling
one of them is doing a peculiar quadrical dance
fly’s quadrille
never seen anything like that before
not that I care about the flies
not that I care about anything
People!
Trying to press my head into my hands
to consolidate, to close the circle
to calm down those algorythms
Mother
she is there too, in my head
and my lover Judas with Jezebel.
His hero’s journey
what a nonsense but wait –
So he actually believes that he is not just a big (vast) emptiness?
He actually sees something when he closes his eyes?
Not darkness to escape from?
Well, that’s actually refreshing (to be honest)
after those endless years of Nietzsche
and abortion gangs
(I’m really terribly sorry to say that).
something new –
like an addiction
like fresh grass
like summer
like horseback riding.
Stuffy, ghastly hot day in New York isn’t promising anything good. In the evening, in between the stale air one after another mad yells and screams are exploding in the tiny apartments on my street. I am wondering how many murders were committed tonight. And there was a war in my apartment as well, which made me feel absolutely deserted, but strangely light and philosophical at the same time. I wasn’t thinking about murder though, although I did feel a new kind of cold hatred; suicide always felt like a closer option according to my nature. I looked through the window. Why isn’t anybody balancing on the roof. Why are people so quiet and enduring this hatred which trickle from every brick tonight. This silent hatred in the middle of nothing. Cruel, cruel evening. I opened a window again. Somebody, a wild tiger is tearing someone’s guts. Just here, in front of my eyes, on the pavement. I see it, I look at it, but really can’t do anything about it. The night screams. I need to close the window. I hope I will not wake up again.
Virtual emptiness creeps on me
this glowing square makes them unreal
I remember my childhood full of fun and mud and smells
and people who were alive with smiles and faces
and they had voices
every voice was special
now they are all strangely silent
now they have transformed into flat pictures and sentences
like characters from newspapers
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