November 15, 2006 at 4:25 pm (poem, rant)

First step towards sanity: I manage to cross all the streets on my way home without ever having to thought of dying there and now^^

Next towards insanity: I felt worried about the above^^

Jus’ some stuff I wrote yesterday…

Why does it always appear
as if the way
of having a relationship
is like picking a special one from a selection of knives
and very slowly start cutting
first yourself
eventually the other half
and there’s always this certainty
if the topic is discussed
the process of skinning yourself
mold together with the whole affair
so even thinking
about falling in love is hollow
why not shoot everyone and invade Polland?

Something does not seem right there
but why does it feel
ever so true?


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