It’s a christian revolution
resurrection of the Christ
cause he is no longer stupid and blind
I will detonate those lies
with a rose blast
cause I can’t sleep at nights
In the realm of my prison
in my mind
I will detonate that fakeness of your lies
the whole squadron of the stars
the self-loving mirror gazers
of all kind
I will detonate the fakeness of your lives
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
While my hubby is building his AI Machine
in his green headquarters
downstairs
and the war is raging from left and right and the underground
I’m not really sure what to do with myself
It’s shiny-raining
and the lightness of nothingness
bothers me slightly
I am descending into a dark adventure
in my mind
conquering the evil turtle
in the cinema
while the horse is drowning
in the mud
the life is over, Ahriman
I am afraid I will die and go into the dark
holes holes holes
I am disintegrating
into holes
I need to patch myself up
my mind is in the black night house
my eyes are useless and blind
I see only darkness when I close my eyes
Those ones who are going to die unfulfilled
covered in scratchy mean sand
with their minds full of headaches and hate
wishing everyday to escape this prison and pain
those ones who can’t be alive
who toll the life like a duty point of honor to survive
full of hostility in the sea of enemies
wishing to leave their families
once forever
take a train and cross the great wall
instead of sitting at the computer
and collect the bills of misery
the rightful slaves of society
a quiet scream into the darkness
in their tiny apartments at night
Meaningless lying on the floor in the dark room in the middle of strange Manhattan, far away from home and my roots. Meaningless lying on this mattress in the dark room, under a high ceiling, in the empty air of unknown galaxy, silent universe. If I was living in a village , surrounded by a familiar bunch of villagers, with whom I would wake up at the morning and look at the twinkering stars at evening, listening to the crickets on the little bench during the evening summer, that would be better , I think. But those things are impossible. My voice is dying inside of my mind, somewhere. In my chest. A silent transcription of my demotivated mind. It’s stuffy. The monotonous sound of the air conditioner exemplifies this weirdness and hollowness of my existence. I know, talking about existence is not in the fashion. Lying is in the fashion. And smiling. But the energy in me imploded and I am a dying one. It is so monotonous that I will die and lie in the cementery – what does it change if I say anything or nothing. And the life goes, goes with it’s whole unimportance. The politics. The carriers. The people. Especially the politics. I just can’t get excited anymore. It’s the way I am constructed. I wanted to play a flute and piano when I was a kid, but it was a long time ago. I loved many people and many things. But here, it just feels like nothing belongs to me, nothing, not even my mind. Nothing. I have lost opinion on everything. What is the point of having an opinion, anyway? Somebody will have a contrary one and will cancel yours out. And so on and so on. Everything, my whole surroundings seem so strange and boring. Cannot connect to this furniture, to this food, to anything. Sometimes only a quick hatred erupts, just to make me even more exhausted and disgusted. Days pass, and pass, and pass in irrelevant universe on Upper West Side.
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