I’ve been to many places…and I have returned from all of them.

And, sheltered inside empty buildings, I secretly…hopelessly…in my drunkenness… wished to die.

I’ve seen the night and the day converge into random scattered nightmares of blind eyed audiences.

I’ve contemplated madness and I’ve soaked myself in desperation.

Give them the sun. Give them colors …

Give them easy conquests …

Give them a game to play…

Give them something to believe...

An idea…and they’ll be your slaves. They will worship you.

Give them flashing meteors.

Give them vices and devices.

Give them pills and cigarettes.

And they will crawl at your door on a Sunday morning begging for more.

I’ve been on the edge of defragmentation and I’ve came back in time to witness my own oblivion.

I repeatedly watched them witnessing time’s self-procrastination and fiercely clapping to their own destruction.

I saw their battles. I heard their screams.

Useless.

I’ve dripped night after night into distorted sceneries.

Assuming the world’s lost and seeking for more.

Finding refuge under the infrastructures of the hidden lights.

I’ve swore that I wasn’t there and I became invisible…wrapped in the smoothed curtains of the room.

And in the dark glances of my shelter I‘ve painted the picture of my own desolation.

How does it feel?

How is it?

I could give my life for just one small drop if it.

Is it too far? Or am I the one who’s running away from it?
Sweet poetry on the devil’s chess board…one single move and it’s over…

Give them the key to the eternal happiness.

Give them the reverse combination of the entrance.

They like to fight for something.

I could stay here for days and days….staring at the horizon …imagining that life is no longer available for me.

Give them a conception.

A drawing in a small piece of paper.

Where am I?

Is this the same place as yesterday?

Give them lobotomy shocks.

Give them razors. Scissors. Knives.

Give them lighters. Furniture. Stairs.

Give them make-up and costumes.

Give them parades.

Give them the warm flavor of resurrection …

I‘ve cried myself until I wasn’t able to cry any longer.

Until I invented tears to cry.

Until I created new ways of pain.

Electrifying thoughts colliding into catatonic excitement.

I’ve seen myself drenched in oil seas and I’ve slept in waste containers.

Until there was no more life at all...