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)