I don’t mind living but I can’t stand life
Brief ecstasies of embracing you soon go from smooth to ripping skin
An Instant of cognition can soon sediment into dilapidated structures
Playful smiles soon putrefy into shit staining grins
“Life is a sausage with two ends, life tastes meaty, life is murder, life is an angel of hell, an angel that lost his wings,
I ask you what live is” – you said, but how could I answer, I’m, all in all, still alive, my heart guesses.
“Life is bony fat & a big bullet full of ideals
and other placebos.”
What is that force that ends all beginnings?
Is “life” now your answer? Is it “live now”?
I’m speechless simply because I can’t breathe.
Lung cancer thinking –
Meaning of life. Reason for life. Joy and suffrage of life. Why? I am a new born kid, rebellious. ‘I don’t want to live, but want to enjoy the suffrage of life!’ Said I to myself in the crowd of homeless animals. But then I took a glass of water, I was holding in my pocket for three years of troubles.
I am lost, life, life, life… I might take a shot, shot of whiskey and wait for little while a for my dear sunset, when I see no shadows. More happy, but still struggling with my wounds on the hands I used to trust.
No answer without a question.
If I painted you onto the ceiling above, I could lie…
With no such room, the canvas has been spoilt.
What efforts there still remain, until my task of you is complete.
So, why would I lie? I cannot when you, too, are remaining: a smile in my mind. Of course, still not here. Nor am I, after all.