Sketches for a dead end

Amongst the marginal ones there are those one treats as being unlike from an early start and there are those who wanted to be different; The first ones are clearly rejected by others because of a prominent, evident, seeable intrinsic characteristic (that doesn't fit the model of what is normality for the mass), the person builds a low self esteem, a fear of others, of being judged and has the impression she doesn't fit anywhere and can't be accepted; The second ones have similar symptoms, they have a common appearance but they search for their individuality, they search an identity, they want to be unique and acknowledged like this, so they build themselves their feeling of never belonging anywhere, they grow their uneasiness and the multiple symptoms, and end up being stuck and as lost as the first ones; For a same state at the end we have different causes.
I want to add that probably the second ones are people who question their environment and are truly "intellectual" people, and the first ones could be simply unlucky to be born in a society that doesn't accept the differences and the cause of their tormented mind condition isn't forcibly due to an overquestioning like in the second ones. Well here i make generalities, i know exceptions exist, and this is just a poor theory my brain tried to assemble.

Simulation

Why do people care so much about their clothing?!; They match it, chose the colors and the style, it's so obvious that they only want to please others (if possible the persons of the opposite gender), they want to be adored, they want to mix, they want to conform to a certain group, they want to be worshiped; Someone who will just don't give a damn, will simply take the first garment at hand out of his closet, he'll be only practical and chose his clothes depending on the weather, for his own comfort (a raincoat when it rains, shorts when it's sunny), but no! here is a proof people want to interact, they want to draw others around them, they want to be loved, so as soon as they go out they meticulously select and tune in their appearance with the clothes matching the image they want to give to others and the feed-backs they expect! It seems to me it's anti-natural and playing with hypocrisy; To be drastically honest i guess we should live naked, it's a come back to the natural primitive state, well it's obviously impossible but i'd like everyone acknowledge that they are fake and pretenders*, covering what they think others will judge unattractive.

I admit i chose my clothes too, though i try to be as neutral as possible, invisible but faithful to my tastes in "fashion", which stretch toward simplicity.

*(That's an incredibly fitted word here, up to me, pretender is a term that qualifies someone who wants to fit somewhere or get the heart of someone else, and in order to reach his goals this someone has to be fake, to simulate and conform, it's awfully ironic)

If all goes wrong

"I'm fascinated by the idea that one can find sublime moments in life even off set against the world's atrocities, if you think of the victorian era, you know, is very dirty and yet people were very invested in looking good and a certain dandyism, you know, it's probably one of the dirtiest times on earth; we're in a particular space in american culture where we're in a continual form of denial, delusion and atrocity, the worst crime is the crime that we perpetrate on ourselves when we allow ourselves to be sell by lies, media lies, things that aren't true, we're eating foods that are horrible for us and our country is built on sort of one massive lie about what we think we are and yet what we really are is so much more fantastic, then the lie that we believe, and i'm always sort of shocked by that because america does really stand for a level of freedom, and i think it's really difficult "as is just a person in"(?) on this planet, how do you close the door at this point, it's what that strikes me, it's just trying to get that beautiful soft space."

Billy Corgan

overcoming

I don't have the accent, i can try to match it but i know i don't have it for now, and it makes me sound like a clown, but if english-speaking people understand me a little better, then i'll be a clown.

Shadowy

Shadowy is the pit i jump in when i need to abhor myself
show me your undulating face i say
wave your arms above your head
nothing's here to paint your ideas black
your trousers frays on your gashed boots
stick your nails onto your reddened collapsing eyes
the trees bow down, they salute you using their branches as claws to trap you
look at the grins, the grins, the grins, dirty and unhealthy, it's our present, it's all for you
you're pierced, they read you, decypher, dispose of the shadow in your brain
they hunt, you're rare, but they only want the framed perfect lines, not your creepy backwash
hey creep! some get caresses, and some indulge in the beating before those who hate throw the rock at your edgy face
go back to your shelter, save your miserable life for one more day!
shadowy is just the haze i feel good in
it's my Character, the shadow plays me when i'm cornered
it's the words i make a circle with, turn my brow far, let my eyelids picture the good i wish to fall in
shadowy is for me, and if it's the only i can get, i'm already happy to have those moments of unreal slackening.
they put a drill on their temple and walk in beauty, one says it's divine.
well i'm not divine, i'm only human and pathetically imperfect.

"My shadow, my shadow,
change is comming through, my shadow,
my shadow's shedding skin,
and I've been picking my scabs again."

forty six and two - TOOL

Free minds

I saw people die in my dream; I don't know if i should be shocked; It's like a giant party at night in an isolated warehouse, the kind we find on aviation sites; The night has no stars and the place is dimly lighted, the sources are out of my sight, everyone seems drunk and i roamed with Julien, i believe it's the typical immoderate american party, and now we are going out, heading to the moore; we just pass the tiny door that leads in the sheet-metal castle of freedom and nonsense, there are people on the roof too, shouts everywhere, and we turn our eyes at the top when we hear an animated cheerful girl giggling and stumbling above; She thrusts on the parrallel bars, and i think "why there is a diving-board here?", the blonde girl with a spruce red tracksuit does a salto in mid air and bed on the ground; no dusts scatter from this pasty soil, no blood spurts on the frontispiece of the building, the body doesn't make even one bit of a bounce, just a deep thud, repercuting through the earth to our feet and i feel i could puke for one second; We know the inward of this girl is nothing more than a gruel, she's simply dead; At the edge above another girl prepares to jump, no one around seems alarmed, no one cares and the party goes on; is it my vision of humanity?, right after this disturbing event i watched Julien and we both think without a word : "we must get out of here!", as people were steadily agglutinate in this sad place, stamping, howling to the moon and embracing each others thoughtlessly, enjoying their dance on earth but the question is who would be the next to jump.

Bruno Schleinstein

The illegitimate son of a prostitute, Bruno was often beaten as
a child, and spent much of his youth in mental institutions. He is a largely self-taught musician, who, over the years developed considerable skill on the piano, accordion, glockenspiel and handbells. He would play in back gardens performing 18th and 19th century style ballads at the weekends, while sustaining himself financially working as a forklift driver at a car plant. Schleinstein says he transmits his songs, he doesn’t sing them.

"Bruno S. is a man to me" i want to believe that Elliott smith sang this line for this artist. ("color bars")

"Headache"

At noon this day, i took out an industrialized pizza from the microwave and began to consider how to cut it fairly for my brother and i; A crusty oozing layer has formed on the melted cheese and the rectangular bacon was grilled correctly, i noticed all the trimming, cheese and bacon on canned tomato juice sprinkled with oregano, was perfectly lined up, not surprising for this type of supermarket pizzas; so i was here, a sharp one piece of metal knife in my hand, and i thought how to slice it for the good of my ideals; First my mind saw the lines of the trimming and it considered cutting along those lines, like drawing a nice pencil line with a ruler, i thought the mind is so lazy, he likes to follow the rules, he likes to walk on straight lines, then i considered cutting to the perpendicular, that will imply to chop the cheese and bacon in half but the tomato sauce wasn't uniformly spread over the circular dough, so it happened that the better way to be totally fair was to cut it in an imperfect diagonal, what i finally did; Why am i writing this? it shows two things : first, how my mind function, i'm human and firstly i saw the lines, it's easy to follow and easy to notice, then i considered all the possibilities to achieve what i wanted which was to be right, and i found a solution, the motive to act is really important for a human, i put equity as the basis of my move in this example and i acted for the best with how my mind reflect to sort out the problem; Second thing : i want to say, often the best solution isn't in the obvious ways that everybody display, one must learn to challenge the rules of one's brain.

The great mystery

They watch tv; Why do they watch tv?!; Isn't it obvious that all is fake, insipid and empty; What hypnotizes them in those tinseled wriggling images?; Do they lack neurons connections?; Do they lack goals and passions?; Did they give up on knowledge?; Are they drained, blunted, and did they surrender on life?; What brainwashing and vegetative job do they devote to?; Honestly, are people plainly dumb or are they manipulated by the system?; Do the system could be so powerful and coercitive, that it becomes impossible for a human mind to unravel and shut down the decoys??? There's just some questions i can't find an answer for, maybe because i'm not in the system like the way the shepherds would like i am; What do they get from their boring life? Is money the only motivation, a room of one's one and a plate of hardly earned food in such suraboundance that their bodies turn unhealthy of "healthy aliments"?, a dressed slum cramed with, one says , the so precious furnitures... and more... and more... way too much more... that the planet is gnawed like a juicy nut; Am i too disconnected to understand, i know i'm not the fool, but maybe i'm too high in what is qualified by the mob as "useless".

If i'm a useless, lazy, mad, embarrasing parasite then they surely are deprived of logic, reasonning and common sense, what an irony.

Every one of us (instant thinking)

I've got things to do, why am i so stuck in one emotion, i just want to be myself, i've got dreams and i know what to do to reach them, step by step, some knowledge are convictions now, some abilities are acquired, i learn, i grow, and i want to thrive, just say what you have to say and do what you love to do, let the people who can't find a place in your perception behind, burdens are made to be thrown away, roll them up, crumple them in a decent perfect circle, and flip them on your wake, forget and forgive, accept your memories but don't spin those thoughts in your mind, go ahead boy, i'm not a wreck yet, i have visions, i have dreams i want to live, my evolution thread through experiences, don't bend away, don't overload your shoulders, stay true, faithful to your beloved needs, walk forward, be creative but don't force yourself and don't force others, use the system, those who have their place in you will show up soon, others will just buzz around, trying to sting you or cut pieces of your wit, others will only display you their heels as they turn away to follow a path you don't belong, don't let your fears, your insecurities, your doubts bringing you down, don't let others making you think that you don't deserve what you love, go for it boy, chin up and proud eyes, straight as the horizon, the connivance between your mind and fingers should haul you toward the quietude you longed for. Hope isn't a gift, hope is in every one of us.

I don't care what you think, i love you my dreams.

(mayonnaise is a perfect title to go with that writing, to go with my mood, my steady mood, i feel i'm flying and see all my goals clear, i let those who don't want to hold my hand behind, goodbye world, me and my loneliness have greater sky to float on)

How

I have to love you now,
because later i'll be dead,
dead in oblivion,
dead in shriveling,
dead in bones...

what it's like to feel too much

"He is jealous of the moon because you look at it,
and jealous of the sun because it warms you,
he touches you even when he doesn't touch
he speaks to you even when he doesn't speak
he loves you even when he doesn't love you ... "

i believe (what a desperate boy i am)

How can someone be so beautiful, if only i could be her shadow or plainly the shadow of her pen, i could admire the thin and smooth curves of her fingers; i begin to believe the blue light, the one that strikes directly to my heart, the one that encompasses my being with the exhilarating perfection of an ice statue, the one that completes all my visions with the essential magnificence of a soulful genius, i'm sure now this blue light that obsseses me in my higher thoughts emanates from her milky skin, and i'm on my knees before the sun of her creativeness; how can someone be so pure, i'm simply convinced and changed for ever, that feeling who takes over your perceptions and senses is true and i can be stricken down by this grace;

(Our mind plays with us, we only can be sure of what we love, and it only belongs to us, the others are only there to share our passions to reach the highest of all emotions, but if you're alone with your love in the alcove of immortality, you'll remember it and revive it untill the end, and those who will flee with part of your soul could never enucleate your precious beloved emotion)

Gravitation (from lost flesh to eternal materialization)

"Otis" vibrated in the room like a chant from another galaxy,this feverish but passionate shout painted more than visions of space, a striking muse with a lighted face, her almond eyes smiling between the curtains of her black straight hair; the dust like oppresing stars keep the body in stillness, in the dark beneath an inclined roof, and the complaint of the song grow in intensity, the mind is absent, nothing sleeps nearby, the matter in reality doesn't exist anymore, here rises the iridescent veil of infinity; the touch of sound allows to drift in his own brain showing a radiant beatitude, planets seemingly on the palms of each hands and this caressing voice as a cradle; time slows down and stops, a created unity floats to wrap the pain, numbs the living moment to feel as dispersed rays with millions eyes, all crystallized around sheer beauty, the universal beauty of the muse.

Life through a glass

It's bright outside, i hear the purring from the city, if it was not for the cold breeze slipping through the window i'm watching out, we could mistake this as a summer day; from my height i see the students walking in packs, prancing and teasing, speaking loud to make the world believe they are not affraid, other persons stride to their goals, and i feel i'm the one eternally motionless before my window; a day like this, nature is in spurt, aboundant emerald foliage with battling birds in it, battling... no, smirking birds; this calm and peacefulness under this vast clear sky don't make me feel lighter, what influences me is my own imagination, i know i'm untied, but those possibilities are drifting far, i'm like an eagle without wings, i can't see a haven here to lay my head and give vent to my thoughts, where am i heading, why am i not on tracks, why i cannot be satisfied of the offering mob; i have no chains and yet i feel heavily boxed; there is this silhouette and no one can pull me back from this window.
I never felt this empty before.

Think in the language you write or read

To learn a foreign language implies to learn a new way to think; i wouldn't do translations to earn some money, because, unless, one perfectly masters the right way of thinking for every language he tries to translate, the outcome only will be a formless pastiche; the depth, the meaning, the precise emotion, all will be debased by codes who can't attach the words; so yes, with an experimented translator, we can have something coherent but for me the very inspiration of the writer thinking in his own language, or the one he would have learned, is derided by pitiful attempts of retranscriptions; the ideal is to think in the language we want to write, or read (because for me all this is equally true for the reading), it's the same as juggling with deux or more thinking systems with its codes, its locutions and its ways to catch the world around.

I want to integrate this aptitude, i need to learn to change my point of view more naturally, i want to learn, i have a motivation!

The certitude of a craving

My steps get longer, i'm attracted by this impression, a vision comes out my rush, i sweat under the lighted bricks of this vivid city, i'm eager to quit the heavy company of the fake envelops with their smooth skin, their straight hair and straight clothes who are like straight jackets to me, i don't belong here but my mind transport me in this tender nest, all in a dim grey light and this eerie atmosphere which makes me think of a bowl of blueberries; two writings connected, i feel comfortable, i can lie in any corner, mute and i'm feeling free to be, this bubble accepts me, here what's look soft is soft and fresh, my sight can linger on this alabaster skin, here what's make you feel small is infinite but keeps you warm in his embrace, here what's look at you transcend you and turns you into an immortal statue of peacefulness, you're circling, you can't imagine such perfection allowed you to walk by his side on a greater sky, you forget what has been, what's clear and pure is guiding you, you reached this state where your being isn't a burden anymore, all is free, all is one, you can close your eyes even on the harder soil, you want to share each atoms of yourself and each crossroads of your reasoning, this moment must last forever, you'll never leave this bleuish room, you crave to belong here, you pray the only one to bring you bliss and keep you close, all is flowing and natural, this is the ultimate need you touched, but this is just an hallucination of a craving mind. I'll believe in it even if my heart petrifies, my love will keep it beating.

Getaway

"stay away"
"stay in your cage"
"they don't like you"
"they can't love you"
"you're shivering"
"you're watching low"
"all is different"
"all is hostile"
"no salvation"
"no coming back"
"you can try to have talent"
"you can try to polish your image"
"you've lost one half"
"they laugh at you"
"you're too dumb and kind"
"leave your skin"
"cease to think"
"no one wants you"
"you skip opportunities"
"you're not worthy enough"
"you are missing fangs"
"break your bones"
"sweep your daydreaming"
"run to your end"
"forget yourself"
"you're a useless bum"
"the cloud above your head frigthens people"
"you'll never get what you want"
"you have nothing to give"
"you are hideous"
"obliterate yourself"
"drown your mind in noises"
"how can you live like that"
"don't search"
"hope is dead"
"you're sick"
"...and abnormal"
"kill yourself"
"erase all you know"
"there's no point"
"there is no one"
"you'll never have the guts"
...

i know what it's like to be high, each time i go out i suffer, i can cope till the end, but i don't want to lose time, i'm fine, i always lived on the edge, i kept my wings safe but i feel the burning breath of what will be my exit. i love you world.

Not too long now

I was arrived to this edge where my hope as my former curly hair has melted in the course of the wearing time; In the vicinity of the pace i was caught on, people i would knew, people i would love were more and more part of a blurry painting, like when, as a kid, i was watching with my vibrant and feverish eyes the multicolored nature out of a train window; i remember those moments of neat existence without the conscioussness of beauty nor bad; what did i got from my craziness? i can seat straight, i can imagine my multiple losses, i left the blazing pages of my misunderstanding faded away with this hope, i become invisible, my shoulders don't bear anymore the pedestal of vigor, i crumble like a sand castle blown by the gust of their indifference; if before i had a chance and with words i could conquer, i'm now a pathetic shadow of the desperate old fool i will become soon; hope flees in the hourglass of time but i know i consume it more quickly as soon as i see myself, in any way; i can stand still and chase the others with my glances, i can smile all the wrinkles of my face, when hope is gone mankind sees the void in you, you're just a shriveled fruit; i don't know the spell to shine anew, to discover again the fiery child i was, i don't have the formula to enchant water and rejuvenate my filthy thoughts; if all i can do is feel in vain and watch my limbs collapse to the ground in despair, if i can love a dream, but i can't love my hope, and my hope is thin, at last, all will disapear completely when i'll fall from the edge.

Fakt (ref. Harvie Krumpet)

The life is as short as a cigarette
Lighted in an ashtray
The wind stirs up and rages
Turns red the burned tobacco
A blue smoke dances like a snake
It's the so expected rise
Nobody guesses the slope
The half is already gone
A last dream then the dawn
...
You are dead!

(very old stuff)

Something is wrong...

Something is wrong, what's my lack, was it my mood, was it the look, the complexion, the pace, some people see me and ask me why my eyes are so sad, they ask for a service, they want to take and run away, i see their insecurities, they bend away and sway like reeds in the wind, i can't give them what they ask for, i can't give them the material but to each words gliding to me, i make a crack in my living, i'm ready to pull out my bones to clean their teeth, my mind gallops to fetch, what do i want, what do i'm waiting for, are you like me, do i search to share in the worst situations, am i wrong to think i want to speak, i want to know people but they disappoint me because i'm otherwise, they seem fine, pretty wrapping with black swans in the curves of their face, with their cajoling smiles and the boys have stars on their list, on the rush to seduce, all are beautiful people, and i'm weak, i'm not worthy enough, but things are crooked, people hide their claws, display a neat façade, but no one is innocent, why my emotions burn when someone pierce my bubble, why do i feel i'm giving myself away, something is wrong, they don't care for me, i need to give myself to someone who cares, i want to... , i want to think i'm able to spread cuteness and happiness, i'm not cold anymore, i know why i bury myself in my lair, because i melt for all the tricks, i'm alone and i'm an easy target, people don't care so why do i care, i want to believe i know where wander my salvation.
I don't want to be me.

Some banalities too often forgotten

Our communications depend greatly of our mood which depends greatly on our state of fatigue and the energy we have, on a day we have peaks and pits like the swell, we can share the better communications during those peaks, we have imagination and ardour, the informations in the brain flow faster and the access to memory is optimum, i think those apogees occur mainly a while after eating and after resting the time the body adapt itself to the new components, food and sleep, then the pits are mainly before eating and evidently before resting.
Everyone can have a different rhythm though people who work should have the same; for my part i'm delayed and if i don't do a nap the afternoon i can feel tired, my peaks those days are mainly in the evening and at the begining of the night where i have energy and often the desir to move, i feel generally low in the middle of the day. The ideal moment for sharing can be when two persons are in peaks though humans are adaptable eh eh, we don't have to seek for perfect moments like a character of a book by jean paul Sartre : "la nausée", or we could end never sharing and being completely frustrated, we must know if we want to share, if we have enough energy to adapt, we chose with whom we want to speak, no pressure just probing oneself and act as we want, respectfully.

(Olia last time we spoke i was in a pit and i used my reserve of energy to be aware and stay connected with you, i noticed clearly the difference in the speed of my thoughts comparing to this evening, i chose to stay with you and i don't regret it, the only hitch is that i couldn't share with you all my passion though i think we had a very good talk way above all i know usually, but we could do better, remember you can knock at my door anytime, i'll do everything i can for you, willingly, with avoiding to be a burden; i prefer reassure you with my entire thoughts because i don't want you to culpabilize, i know you're kind and want the well being of others, but eh you can think about yourself, people should watch on them, do what you want.)

Development on the search for absolute self

I think ultimately one can really be himself only when one is alone, isolated, out of sight from other human beings, the quest for oneself can only be done through solitude and immediately if we find ourself amongst our fellows, if we notice them, then our behaviors, our thoughts are influenced, and we can't be ourselves; we can't be entirely self-centered to deny the existence of others around us, it's impossible, and we naturally need others that's why they forcibly have an impact on us, even the slightest, it can't be otherwise ; we should be blind, we should lose all our senses, because a simple glance crossed and noticed in the street changes our behaviors and automatically instils thoughts in our brain; we have a natural need of others to define us, to reassure us, because the emotions that we can feel are a pleasure and we are subjugate to it, I think the best we can do is to find people who will influence our behaviors and our thoughts so that we feel good emotions, that way even if we are not really ourselves in its pure form, at least we feel pleasure to live and keep close to the world. It's an alchemy.

(to go farther, the simple fact to think about someone changes our behaviors and our thoughts evidently)

Lost in a station (maybe that's better)

Here i am on this land, standing still, my legs are numbed, everything around scared me, i can't make a step, i'm oververflowed with informations and the fear don't allow me to make any move, like if i was in a mines field; this temple for travelers buzzes like a hive, and the flesh puppets stride straight following the rails to their destination; i'm unoticed though being the only one turned into a statue, i don't know where to look, i don't want to afflict anyone, i don't want to have an impact on their lives and i don't want them to spoil my day as i know one glance can create a cyclone in me; i'm here for one person and as i turn my head timidly, my eyes stumble on hers, we're now two standing still in the blurry agitation, at a short distance and i'm hardly aware that the ruckus becomes a wadded melody to my ears, my senses are shutting down one by one, i feel my legs will no longer support me and i could faint in this dream with a serene smile on my face, relieved, saved!

I know my hands are becoming moist, i need to hide them under the strap of my bag, it needs to be busy, nervously sliping along my arms, i prevent them to spoil anything they could graze; my eyes are sliping too, i don't want to unpolitely staring at her so my glances sweep from side to side, lifting a bit to admire her hands, her pale and delicate hands are bond together and seems to shudder in eagerness, i want to believe she's looking at me with the same giant teary eyes i have now, i pray for her to not rush and pass next to me to hug some other boy in the station as i bitterly saw it many times in movies and the artificial laughs will be for me to bury in; i want to believe i'll be fine and those hands will soothe me from myself even if mine will stay stiff and cold for awhile; i think i can't watch i don't want to shatter the dream.

I'll say "take me far", this building of metal beams finely polished, and artistically painted is too crowded, i feel i'm in the nest of ants and i want to be a free butterfly living for one day full before giving back my core to the earth, i'm not made to walk in line, wandering tunnels through dark days of labor, let's escape from this mound of filth, "take me far", i trust you, be my guide, please don't break the leash and make me feel real for a day, we're not busy ants, we're free passing butterflies.

I've learned, i know how to consider human nature, to everyone his choices, to everyone his thoughts, his ideas, his perception, his world, no one can disapoint me by saying his truth even if i have a different one; in a situation like this the answer will be "yes" or "no", if i have to be rejected i'll walk away like a robot all my senses destroyed, i'll swim back to my home, i'll exhaust myself to the bones in order to rest afterwards util the end of my living days, and i'll wish her to be truly happy because she sleeps in my heart.

I'm not made to be one

One day i'll be sitting on the bank ready to dive, bare feet covered in vegetal powder, pierced by the wires from the trees, i'll be watching the wide basin of water glimmering the sky, i don't wish for the weather to be frozen in a pathetic blue, i want it free, angry or sad, if the drops want to whip my face i'll be there, if the sun wants to burn my skin i'll bring an umbrella, my weather will be free and i'll let my mind protect me, legs stretched, the palms of my hands fixed to the ground, tense, i'll wait for the push to clean my wounds and find peace in the carresing silk of the water, i'll swarm, i'll spin, i'll twirl like a torpedo, i always thought swiming was close to flying, i'm a fool i need to cool my brain; one day i'll be sitting anywhere, not watching, lost in the brambles weaved by the impulses in my mind, one day a finger will lay down on my wrinkled hand and i'll cease to feed the doubts, i'll leave my body to drown in the eyes of my murderer, this will be the happiest moment of my life.

(my familiar ressources, i don't know how to get out of the spiral, take my hand and pull me out, is there a speck of hope in this aged vision)

Pleasure and Pain

(hmm i see that as a formal way of learning to write coming from a handbook, i'm not good at following rules you know but i did begin to write something on the bus this morning; if i had followed my envy i would have written all in one long text; here's one vision, i had many, we could once chose and write on a similar theme?!.)

1 and 2. The wagon is slowly pulled back on the gigantic slope, we hear the loud sound of the wheel cogs hammering one each other like the advent of an execution. My friend spent half of his life on a wheeling chair and here he is again doing the scarest ride of the park, sitting next to him i see his hands blending with the padded bar, our lean and unique savior, the thread of each existence on this caterpillar, and every brain can picture the fall and the thud of a skull opening out on the concrete tiles spurting pulp out of his peel.
I feel excited, my entire body shivers, that's certainly a situation who puts the imagination at work, my guts want to evaporate, i sense them liquefied in my belly, i've decided to make the balance with the frightened sweat floating around our infernal apparatus. Despite my friend being from the Carribean, i can see his veined hands turning grey by the pressure of his grip, his nails on the verge to pop out and both like panting hearts striped with swollen lines. I smile all i can, i want to curse the world lungs aloud, that's the last ride, i rub my hands together, i'm tied to the seat but i feel i can't stay still, i wave and i want to jump, i watch right and left, the fields and forests afar and the short bemused people beneath, i drink the landscape from this height and i can't wait to fly because strangely i feel i'm gonna escape, escape to fly away, safe from the crushing others.

3. (coming soon... perhaps...) three doesn't inspire me at all, you imagine now why i had poor grades at school, i have a tendency to skip what doesn't please me.

4. (coming soon... or never)