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.
Oh, the collapse of civilization, oh, complete isolation!
I change my mind every five minutes, no, every 5 seconds, depending on what I see on Facebook. Facebook-book-god- I can not even finish reading a book! Oh, excess of information! I am lost! I would like to live in a cave, with one book arriving a week-instead of this-Amazon is bringing me tones of books, new book chases another and I am looking at them, jumping on them with the hope of finding the solution. What solution? Is what some ignorant bastard can ask – solution to my life, the answer! The Big answer! Answer! And next the jump on the internet-it gives me a little piece of mind for a while-but-my attention suddenly gets so distracted, I am so distracted-and a thought kills a thought-here is a thoughts war! And my mind is a battle! Maybe i should stop writing-yes, I should go to buy new paint-canvas-colors, produce colors, colors I need and I need it right now! Or, maybe I am hungry, hungry, – but I will not be cooking! That is too common-and should I write!? Will they think I am ugly, or a nerd or something? Oh, I hate those stupid Hamericans-why are they so immature??
Should I go somewhere? Is there an important meeting, social mambo-jumbo I should attend? Or maybe I have an appointment with my psychiatrist? Oh, and if I won’t go, he will chase me, call me, he needs his money, he pays his mortgage of my insanity! Mortgage-oh, those people are so boring-who needs a house? I never had one, who cares about bullshit like that? Oh, horrible middle class-there is nothing worse, I am telling you, there is nothing worse than them … the walls without art … or art bought at Ikea factory or Moma art – you know, I cannot go to Moma anymore, I’ve been there an I got nauseus – now, every time they send me a letter – ( they chase me, every institution in this country is chasing me and my money) I want to puke. I need to tell it to my doctor, but i hate doctors. And I don’t need those bastards anymore.
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