Verbalizer Apocalooptikon

“You wake up one morning, the whole world is grey, you have had enough of your cold, colourless life. You want to drop everything, escape, far away, where life is real. Who has not had this dream from time to time? Nothing could be more normal. The desire to escape, to travel, is deeply rooted in everyone, from the young runaway to the tourist, from the beatnik to the Sunday hiker. But suppose now that this desire to flee becomes an obsession, a truly irresistible compulsion. Suppose further that it all happens in a state of absence and you cannot remember any of it: you arrive somewhere, dazed, without the slightest idea of what happened in the interval. Obviously, you have become a pathological runaway, a mad traveller, fit for the asylum and for therapy. “

http://www.sr.se/cgi-bin/p1/src/sing/default.asp

five processed photos: starring: stairs, mountainz, butterflies, clouds and peeps walking on stilts and holding torchez (a99edy, i remember all these mesc4like shaduwz)

“holographic aspect of particles and waves”
what remains to say what whom what for senseless question three kindz od nothingness maria pastora ska twisted void what to say whom what for causing what transfer particle of motion movement of a medium that is contains and is nothing to say nothing say medium and movement as one twisted even that into kind of nothingness before the

http://www.deviantart.com/view/4047210/

frm one hand:
my brother says: you are like our mother with all her ups and downs, instant lapses from the heights of joy straight down the pits of sadness.
yes, that is right. should i beg for chemical balance, or should i live with it? i live with it, already accepted it (despite i did not like my parents for long long years. you know, i could not forgive them bringing me to the surface of this so the bestest world. my child will hate me too) it wasn’t easy to accept that i am just a replicated complex passed along by biological vehiculus namely my parents. but i see i am! acceptance is not the favourite sport of mine.). i have heard in the voice of my bro unspoken words: get yourself, big up yo motherfucker, do something, do not spoil my picture of your reality, i care so much bout you so you have to take care of what you are trying to communicate. he insisted between the lines that i should be happy. happy / unhappy.
ok. december fucks me as hell, i am sad. s.a.d. ok? and now i am sad, because i told my bro that i am sad and he didn’t like it! [shut the fuck up, next, (c) by dr dennis leary].
the point is: life is pointless, perhaps ganja, perhaps piece of musick, perhaps beautiful wo/man, perhaps a kid. comfort of sins, comfort of friends. i don’t like cocaine. i am sad, ‘cuz i have lost touch with reality and reality bites, so i am biten. i aint got no cash, i work hard, i got somebody elses’ (even beloved ones) expectations to meet. pre-christmas tension, must be it.

from the other hand:
yes, ok, i am little more than vulgar sum of biomateria passed from my parents and behaviours i was imprinted in childhood. so what? nothing counts when thoughts react according to the payments due.

i would love to write down something worth attention enough to twist the guts of the readers and knock em down to the ground. i would love to record such a piece of musick, to discover such a gesture, to take so revolting photo to get thru this fucking communication issue and speak straight to the very bones of a men and watch them react.

i am small step from mental institution. why? because i feel sooo fucking good!
please, if u notice me signing my posts “Hesus” or like… send me my body parts via snail in several parcels. address available upon request. too much love, too much…