... 9 December. 2010
Soft drink comes over me as a sexy assassin with a silk scarf. I'll still survive, strangle you for free. I lie at night on the floor of my small, dark room, I'm alone with my naked self, shake the wind at the window of my high tower, I am resolved, in everything and nothing. I am a spirit, has become a shadow I stride through again and again. I've lost the fear out of the body, without knowing the fact that I do not win. The fears connect me with life. But the constant fear is essential. Only when you smile, it tells me the heat, if you talk to me, I hear that I'm alive.
I'm responding, because someone on me. Otherwise? Am, as ever, drifted. Beginners Course the hereafter, perhaps - so that you can not start early enough, you might say. Is not true. The hero goes through the gloomy dungeon, the corpses of slain monsters piling up on his back down paths and the anticipation of the daylight gives him last strength. He finds the outcome of this hell, walks through it and discovered that he no longer knows why he had entered it. He is no longer the same, as when his adventure began and everything for which he fought has disappeared or lost in battle mask behind which everything and nothing makes a face - even an angel, sometimes the devil. I walk in darkness, and become a part of it, the demons, I eat, be a part of me.
The Kuschelrock sounds like a hymn to the apocalyptic destruction. The bar is still my refuge, as long as I jump from moment to moment, sipping my beer and then hasten on the heads of crocodiles. Do not stop or stay there and put up the darkening wave breaks behind you on the rest of your life. You can not stop no wave, the gloomy water can not you speak, you can only let you enter the water to float.
I choose the guerrilla struggle. The time chasing me, but it is not the enemy. In the shadow of the threat, lurking undetected, human. It lurks in my shadow. Over a Decade in the darkness and then? It shames me, it makes me angry. See you. This is my shadow, I am the darkness. I am not a jailbird, but I feel this way. Had found refuge in the prison library, before they threw me out, so I found out that there is absolutely no recourse.
We read no more, you study, you criticize, you know everything better. Show any weakness, or you're done. In the jail that was made public at least, everyone knew. But the children, the children brought up by nervous parents, frantically trying to hide the truth behind sugar, endorphins and cartoons. Hab News for you: From birth, there is no man so stupid as you can make your drugs - whatever the name of the. TV, alcohol, sports, tobacco, cocaine, whatever. In the fullness of unnatural ... But what is natural, except that you must lie to your children. You have to do it. No freedom of choice. The fear of yourself, force yourself to do so. We see the world from thought up by people - panic, pathetic, lied to.
I am a spirit in a cloud of music, the evaporated my MP3 player, I stride through the night in the street. All the dirt in front of me, like an open book. Only if you smile when you laugh or cry, I know I am. I'm here for you. Otherwise? Shadow and silence loud walking.
0 comments:
Post a Comment