a picture of the fish that lacks water, my brain being the lake.

I am this close to giving in. Returning myself to the foodchain. To become wormfood.

There's no telling what to believe in anymore, it seems that a burning passion for something only makes you weaker, more prone to depression, more difficult to deal with, harder to understand and keep track of. From this day on, I'll always watch myself from the outside, shut away my passion and enthusiasm, my energy and glow to avoid getting hurt.
At least I'll keep my cool. Wasting away sounds so much better in mute.

No talent, no belief. No feeling of self-worth. Slowly rotting, shedding pounds by cutting ones limbs off. The purpose of it all has just gone clean out of me, broke and broken. Constantly on the way to nowhere. A whole bunch of nothing and an ache that doesn't leave, not for one simple, merciful second. No. All is not well. Havoc. Everything just appears wrong to me. For me. Reduced to cells, we'll not drink the water.

was something i actually published somewhere else, but i noticed that depression does not speak well with outsiders. when you're so far down you feel like you've got nothing to lose, well, you could  try and imagine how much that must hurt.

so sad that the possibility of running away from oneself is not actual. you can't.

i dream of waking up..

as i struggle, behold my latest creation:

[insert picture of my very hairy armpits]

everything moves in slow motion. even the time it takes to breathe, appears to be eternal.
expand the boarders, no fine line to cross

pleading guilty of guilt,
all of the time
bring me down, hair falls off, paperclips summon speed, as i walk through this desert

dicipline, what gives
the trouble has a wonderful neck, quickly as it turns towards me and the direction my face faces.
the stripes won't help you now

i'm utterly bored, but unable to commit to anything
even the simple task of bringing out the garbage feels like climbing fucking mout everest.
nothing excites me anymore,
the complaints keep piling up, unable to handle them, i stare out in the thin air, apathy strikes and my soul escapes
all is well, my mind is on repeat

buried at the opera

my name is fear

i've come to realise, yet again, that thought is what brings me to my knees, brings me to misfortune and keeps me tied up, criss-crossed and painfully aware of what i am and what that is missing.
having an imagination that often runs wild in a bad manner creates a distance between struggle and what is actually actual. what really happens and what i'd thought would happen, what i want to happen and what does not happen. the summary of ones thoughts is enough to hold me back. tied to this sofa, existing only on memories and hopes that one day, all might change. that one day, i might wake up and walk outside with a different frame of mind.

the ultimate disease, the one you create, the one that is purely fictional.
the one that carries all your hopes and dreams, and yet possess the power to destruct all of the same.
leaves you scarred for life from something that has yet to happen.
my flight is this, my inner voice has too much to say.
left bled and empty, only a fraction of what used to be.
nothing left to grow new lands and experiences on and from.

sitting here, pale and paler. growing weary but stronger, more resilient and slowly becoming a bug in a huge world, that is this apartment. expanding the mind just doesn't cut it anymore, this space will still be tiny compared to what i miss.

hole in the sun, nuts and pieces of bones, picking your club of golf up to memorise the lyrics of painted houses, flies stuck in the glue of your brain

the most exciting part of my day is checking what weather is on outside.
now, for instance, there's snow hanging down from the roof, like a shirt that's too big and just hangs off of you, halfway down your shoulders and so on. and so forth. this is not recommended reading, i tells you.

OH THE PROFANITY!
and the vanity
all is in vein.

i guess i would benefit from keeping off the fish and the grass.

but then i have to discontinue being a scottishman.. which saddens me.
what to choose, the ultimate dilemma of controlling ones environment.
my agenda is simple, it's simply the best.

oh and also, i spent way too much money on black pepper. but, the sheer amount will keep me going for at least six months or so. pepper on everything, even the sushi and the smoothie and the sushismoodie and the fruitarian way of having sushi and so on. everything is mixed, to be enjoyed by every filosophy, by every idealism and every belief.
nothing will ever be the same again! what a relief.

un able to take the truth about life seriously, drown me in dough and cut my back open, knives has that wonderful purpose and i'm still waiting in line for it, slice and dice, conserve and cook, kill the beast in me

good grieves
pick your nose clean
and start over

what gives
the troll wears you in and out
outside in, inside out

hanging on the forhead
your bones will collide
social suicide

good beer is great

i'm sitting here, halfdressed and tossed like the salad from a copycat-restaurant. sidedish to life, looking onto the main attractions from a different pov.
good beer, great bear.
flip me over, look for bugs,
they're making love in the abyss of silence

down-jackets and hairy toncils, fried up fat from the freezer outside,
roadkill, road kills, flip the asphalt, all is exiting

from the ways of strangely common pace,
footprints on the wall and patterns that glow

it all began so well, now i'm back again

noisy hands and restless hair,
a spine that crumbles and a tounge that's possessed

no longer able to concentrate, i'm shifting shapes and
thinking about destractions

still on the news, still on the scale
my life is easy but it sure tastes like hell

we're free to run and grab the nest, free to pay the price in calories
instead we sit on them, conservation is our biggest business.
    lesson learned.

bakingsoda and the many faces of mood,
it's all a matter of bringing frogs to the boil

all is that matter, it does not matter, the matter matters, but not anymore, the matter has no matter no more.

change for bigger bills -
bill has so many faces.

 give in to gravity,
the nature of falling feels appropriate.

T-rex disco, this is too good to miss.

i've never made noises quite like the ones i made when i saw this:
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