I feel neither comfort nor hunger. Loss of appetite. All over now after 25 years of hell? A strong Primal scream on the phone January 2004! Remember? I think you do.
Have I played with pills and alcohol after I staged the construction of all these castles in the air? Can love become such a doubt when I cynically chuckle with a heel kick along with the ball itself? Why did I never let go then? Do I have to keep the fantasies alive or did I have the choice to move forward with my head held high and just look ahead? Who knows what meetings have passed with all those lost years in constant monologues.

I feel from the bitter taste like a lemon with its shriveled face and that judges with a narcissistic condemnation when I am not content with the small in man mold into perfection
I seek the grandiose and sick with a table that tempts with its fruit rotting in its decay. What can I do when the years go by with these monologues in my search for something so minimalist and simple as love?

Who´s that young and fresh like you my dear whom I held so high. You were my queen but was I your king? Alpha or Beta? if not a third option?
What exists or does not exist? A Rubik's Cube wasting a lot of my own precious time without solving that puzzle? Where is the devil who deceived me with these mirages of naked fleshly bodies that were human? A wicked grin? Time for what? Carpe diem? It was too long ago where my innocent youth when I looked back. Are memories a kind of prison of impermanence? Time as precious or a constantly flowing like a lake of meaningless words? I look in the mirror and notice the scars from years of introspection. So I lived as as you might think... but no! I kept the mask on and hold a low profile without being an elephant on glass.

Maybe that pot-bellied pig who exposes himself while the other godless feast on it´s carcass and YOU shining up a pearly white smile that with an evil grin wants to conquer with a kill in a sick and perverted way. Poor little pot-bellied pig lying there squirming in its fat-filled whiteness. May his cholesterol clog the arteries of all those who feast on him. These thoughts and lies when they watered his dandelions on his grave with their crocodile tears and lose themselves on a rubbing against his tombstone. No one knows me better than I do. So let go of me devil or you'll get a black eye and a broken nose.

Goodbye!