Den II
I am a sailor and I lost my leg.....words going round and round in my head.....will they ship me up to Boston?
music in the morning in my ears, empty stares in the tube, empty stares in the tram, a crowd of mutualy agreeing sheeps is on the move again...bha bha get from a to b....i want to scream, shout, smack and tear, tear the grey fabric of this city from its face...wake up everybody...time like grains of sand is running through our fingers more quickly every day...it's a race i want to desperately win but so far i have been losing everyday...bbc in the morning, yes i know i am supposed to keep my thoughts and mood diary but to combat what exactly? depression? don't make me laugh, it's the very esence of feeling some pain that allows me to breath every morning...i stare at the face in the mirror, its hollow eyes are starring back at me....hello silently formulate the lips in the mirror...what the fuck are you doing here? it's exactly 15 meters from my bedroom window to the pavement...is it enough to tear off the grey fabric from my face? what a bloody mess that would be to land infront of a morning tram...it might make some people feel alive again...cruiously gossiping women would experience one mind blowing orgasmus after another by witnessing the not so rare event of somebody dying on tram tracks...15 meters, is it enough?...what do you think? i think the pavement with its century old cobbled stones is far too close...maybe one day i will move elsewhere, get an apparment on 5th or 6th floor, then i will give the neighbours to talk about something one morning...bbc and it's mood and thoughts diary...here is my thought for the day...get drunk, get laid, swallow your self-pitty, learn to live with another day
