it's 6:40 am. No sleep. New day has dawned and I am the same old asshole i've always been. I guess somewhere, someone has awoken into a different man, a man he always wanted to be. Not me. I am still the same, got a few cuts and bruises from the efford but I am still the same.  I wonder if there's some sort of scientific aproach to this. I've always felt that all humans have, in their determining helix, the full spectrum of human characteristics. They are all capable of all- so what chooses us? What isolates that part of the DNA that will be activated and mould our character? Imagine, one day, people will be able to choose, will be able to determine their character, eliminate their cons and accentuate their pros...  one day randomicity will be a word unknown. One day we'll seize to be humans.... and on that day i will go in hiding. I 'stay the asshole that I am, forever!

Dante's little cousin!

My presence- ubiquitous. Eternal damnation of inedequacy and absence. It doesn't get any better as I age - that's wine- not me. Hard-burned is a pretermined path of identity. It cannot be tampered with. It's just a nuisance of a life, and I won the lotto. Glimpses of supremacy above and beyond of what is below and at bay don't seem to flatter my melancholy anymore. Retreating into my archetypal mould in hopes of a re-death seems like a utopian malice against the idiocratic regime that governs.Or is it just a fleeting misconception? I ruled out any possibility of rectification. Attonement is such a distant process. Yet, there is this one fading memory... of a man... that used to know- something. I can't quite grasp the materialization of the "something" but it has engraved a spark. A liquid spark which is solely responsible for the minature flame that still burns in my eyes... it should have expired by now, but it chooses to defy me and hang on... i have no knowledge of what fuels it to this day and I will propably perish without ever finding out... and yet i used to know, i am sure of that, i used to know where to get the fuel and it was in abundance... remember? Do u remember my old love? Forever- remember? I don't....

Is this catharsis? Or is this purgatory. This is fuckin' nothing. Important and big meaningless words of nothingness. What is catharsis? Who has willingly stepped out of numbness into a shower of acidic detergent- ALIVE? The following zero. Self-infliction has never adhered it self to positiveness and has never been part of any solution. A choice to be made is a choice not made yet... so there's still time. There's still time to enjoy the cream of the crop and lay back. And I wait...for she will come, in her morning glory and accompanied by a fresh scent of decay... I welcome her. It's the only way out of this shitplace. I welcome her and embrace her decadence as if it were my own. Look, watch, see, hear, listen and now..... go fuck yourself.... We are done..


If you can hear me... Yes you out there... If you can hear me.... There can only be one of you..... If you can hear me....." Open your heart.... I am coming home"  alone..

work in progress

παρακαταθήκες μοναξιάς, αρνούμενες τον θάνατο τους, που τόσο επιτάσσω,
αράχνης ιστός με συρματόσχοινο, λιπαρές θηλειές στο ικρίωμα,
μα αντέχω και αναζητώ
αυτό που λέω "άγνωστο"- την υποδοχή του
αυτό που είπα "γνωστό"- τη θαλπωρή του
αυτό  που με γνώρισε - την αναπνοή ...... μου
.....μαζί και τη δική σου αναπνοή
ο δρόμος τραχαίνει, οι αλυσίδες δεν σπάνε, ξεσκίζει σάρκες η απελευθέρωση,
αλλά δεν φοβάμαι τίποτα πια παρά μόνο τον φόβο
βλέπω, αγγίζω, γεύομαι το αίμα, και προχωρώ
μία μία οι αλυσίδες μένουν πίσω.... με ένα κομμάτι από εμέ,
και το όλο, όλο και πιο λίγο..


μα.....είναι εκεί, καραδοκεί...
διαφημίζει την πραμάτια της και κράζει την απολυτότητα της ανασφάλειας μου.
μου ανοίγει καρδιά και σκέλια και την αιωνιότητα της, την εννοεί
μοναξιά παντού και πάντα...
 τόσο μακρύα την νιώθω τώρα από μένα ..τόσο μακρυά θέλω να την κρατήσω.. και με προσέχω
με προσέχω, γι ' αυτό κάποτε σιωπώ
με προσέχω, γι' αυτό καποτε σου μιλώ
με προσέχω, γι' αυτό κάποτε σου μιλά η σιωπή μου
με προσέχω, γι' αυτό κάποτε να μ' ακούς....

και το όλο, όλο και πιο λίγο απ' το λίγο

η ανάγκη, το άγγιγμα φευγαλέο -  σάρκας και ψυχής -
μόνιμη προσωρινότητα -ατίθαση εκκρεμότητα... την γουστάρω
και το τραίνο φτάνει, μην ανεβείς





και το όλο -- ολοκληρώνεται... μην σε τρομάζει,

άντε γεια

Μ' έχει βαρεθεί η μοναξιά μου, έτσι μου λεέι. Με εγκαταλείπει η πιο πιστή συντρόφισσα- έτσι απλά - με φτύνει- και φεύγει. Αυτή τη φορά δεν θα τρέξω ξοπίσω της. Αυτή τη φορά θα την αφήσω- λένε ότι αν αγαπάς κάτι - άσε το να φύγει- αν σ' αγαπά θα γυρίσει και πάλι κοντά σου. Μαλακίες. Δεν φεύγει ποτέ- και στα τσακίδια.  Θα ακολουθήσω άλλο δρόμο, ίσως πιο τραχύ και πιο επικίνδυνο- αλλά πολύ πιο όμορφο - και όπου με βγάλει!! Αν την συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντήσω στο δρόμο θα την ξανά-αγνοήσω... αν την ξανά-συναντ................................................

inapplicable, sort of poetic but then again...not

It's quite miserably entertaining to acknowledge the misfortune of being one self.  It allows you to point your finger and utter the almighty "i told you so mother fucker.....i told you so....". And rest at peace..the mirror won't answer back. I guess each death that sort of brings your number closer to its being called by the grim reaper makes you think ..of the unthinkable....of LIFE.... Die at the right time says Yalom and I add....Live at all times...  How is it possible to fear of what you will never encounter while you are alive... and simultaneously be afraid of what accompanies you throughout your breathing times? Isn't it miserable to be afraid of death and life at the same time.?.. those who claim to seek death as a way out-how do they know? how do those fuckers know what they will happen once they become dearly departed? Is it a personal Lois and Clarke syndrome of exploration? How can  you explore when you are dead? Have you explored while alive? Have you answered to the calls to the deity inside you? Have you read the scriptures on the inside of your eyelids? Did you translate the incoherent voices of your subconscious and have you removed the filter between your rational and your vocal chords? Isn't it entertaining, to examine the web that is you.....and for the very first time realize its vastness? For the very first time get lost knowingly in the intertwining elements of the constitution of the creation that is reading these lines at this very moment? And just about now, have you realized what a miserable process you've been so far.?... and furthermore what a miserable concept you are thriving to become?
 
Death has happened and will not happen again...nobody dies twice... what one needs to fear is the resurrection... will you resurrect to live or will you resurrect to have another apparent death again, and again, and again and again.....the important thing is to maintain a good mental credit...and be able to pay throughout your decimation of your rational....otherwise... the switch will flip....and the debt will mount and then....you will never be able to die and escape your death....

Redundant Thoughts

Arise, in thought and spirit,
reach beyond and fetch the life you so seek,
amaze yourself and oblige your existence.

Arise my brother,  forget the prison, forget the guard,
name the game, and pity the fact
endulge in silence and scream your lungs
forever tatoo the arm...

Neglect what needs the love,
face off and live your past,
female juices and sperm of man
arise my sister and kill your heart.

Incoherency

I have engaged upon this journey in order to fulfill my need for atonement. I need to apologize for being so apologetic. Restart- restart.  I need not apologize for nothing. Redemption is not in my perceptive vocabulary. Sense and sensibility has been the governing force behind my fortune (or misfortune). Strange how i never came to liquify this fortune. Oxymoron is what i am. Oxy as in acidic, and moron as in Moron. An acidic moron miniature of epic proportions. Atonement for what, crime or otherwise? No need, no will. Emphatic thrusts and counterthrusts. Waves of sorrys and tsunamis of bullshit. It's so distinct in all this mess. What I need is what I am. What I want is what I will never be. And I am what I've always needed but never wanted. Locked up- brain damage.

The numbness is not as comfortable as Floyd assumed. You've been warned. The numbness is unique in its ability to remove any sound from your sight, any sight from your hearing or any thought from your limbs. The numbness hires and fires perceptions at will. It allows "little escapes" into feelings- but you always have to report right back in. I love my numbness- i guess that's a feeling. It allows for my esoteric misconception of instances not to escape into the open and ridicule my already ridiculous inexistence. It was formed a womb where the amniotic fluid is mostly formalin which preserves  tissue or cells thoughts  by reversibly cross-linking primary amino groups primal fears in proteins with other nearby nitrogen atoms in protein or DNA  grey matter through a -CH₂- linkage. Enough with Wikipedia science though. Bottom line is that there is no chance for me to have a coherent thought that would lead to legible piece of writing. Love it. Have a nice day.

Frantic multipolarity and the dysfunctional snail

I choose not to make any choices lately. I am a solemn repetitive force. Standing tall and bearing it all under my fake fur garments. I never make any sense and I have no stories to tell. I am what you wouldn't call normal. I am a discrepancy from everyday and every night mediocrity. An idiotic version of a genius - Unbeaten and unparalleled. I am slower than a snail and faster than a road-runner. Narcissistic appreciation of my absentee personality. The grandest of Buddhas and the tiniest of Jesuses. A predicament unmatched. Empty gaze through flaming eyes. Spread wings and flights into the deepest crevasses of infernal mist.
I guess non-choices are choices too, perpetuated by the yellow strip running down my back. Emphatically hermaphroditic fear factor entrepreneurship. It's beyond fear of the dark and it precedes fear of the light. A sustainable ecosystemic reef of fears burdening my soul with carved uselessness and randomicity of hardly spotted, fly-by pleasures. "What have I become" has no application within my universe. I've always been what I've recently discovered that I am and up until now falsely thought I've become. Fascinating, ain't it? Hard-boiled eggs bumping heads with snail shells. Is it all down to the calcium content after all? Loser take it all.
Earth and water, mud. Mud and fire, pottery. Water in pottery on fire- boiled eggs. What the f-word man? Basic deconstruction of one's construction down to the barebones identifies the humility of the notarized circulars issued by the man herself. Who has time to deconstruct and sort - who has time to identify and formulate the findings into the helix a spliced DNA strand? I believe this to be the case with me, or even the suitcase with me. I've become a pro-deconstructor. I am the de-constructed showcase of my work. I know me down to my toe nail. I identify every fear, every want, all lust, all hate and none of the love. I am, what you call, a specialist. Available for hire 24/7.
Don’t get me wrong reader…. actually don’t get me at all. I am not to be handled, especially with care. I ain’t fragile and yet I break into a million pieces by the sheer presence of a loving breath. I would have liked to be able to love this brave breath back… but… . Let it be friend, let it be. A solemn repetitive force, of avoiding all basic human interaction. A finely tuned systemic machine of dysfunctionality, lubricating the cornerstone of the philosophy of evermore – I consume therefore …you fill in the blanks. A machine so well trained and educated that it believes it’s free. You are as free as your shackles allow you.
Abundant resources sustaining a style that’s been promoted to life. Maitre d’ vie, those who are about to be stylized salute you. Laugh and cry, with the right attire and the right make-up. Anyone ever had the left attire and the left make-up? Wow, how deep. I amaze myself sometimes with the deepness of my thoughts. Corks of the world fear. Thus spoke malakustra. Have a nice day!

Blue-pilling into the Red...

I have not written anything in a while. I haven't thought of anything worth thinking about in more than a while. And...i have not met anyone worth meeting in ages. Good old friends, met years ago. That's it.

These are funny times- not in the sense of "making you laugh"- just funny. These are times never anticipated, with no defense mechanisms set-up, with no shelter provided. These are times where one stands naked before the napalm effect of post-meta-modernism. These are the times of the me, of the big, of the fictional reality of 1984 and of a voiced-over Metropolis. People short-circuiting left and right - myself included. People going crazy (i.e. departing from what is considered the norm as decided by the herds of know-it-all imbeciles)and women begging men they loathe to worship their aging asses- so that they can have their five minutes of heaven. Five minutes of a mental orgasmic rectificcation - to make up for a lifetime of frustration. Five minutes- "because they deserve it". Damn bitches.

People going crazy over mean motherfuckers ruling the intramatrix of this inescapable mosaic of barbed wire and landmines, posting their whereabouts on twiter and facebook. Worshiped by the "independent", "self-sufficient" women of our "dreams". Forming posses with the the male version of the previously described women and taking over the stage they inherited from their neandertal ancestry. The men and women of our time. The respected ones. The trend setters. What a bunch of horseshit. These people are real. They exist. They have manifestos (Cosmopolitan, Ok, Hello and more) and they have a communications network that supplies the mental plankton they need to grow. Their grey matter has been evolutionised into a rainbow-like magma of chewed and digested ways of thinking. Somehow these people beleive in their originality, in their uniquenes, in their freedom of thought. Yea, and i look like Rodolfo Valentino.. :) . Fucking clones of a prototype gone wrong- of a prototype that has been executed by its clones. Strong bonds of so called friendship propagate the art of cloning- masterfully directed by a motionless and yet restless and hyperactive endity of inexistence. The sublimity of this pettiness' is phenomenally profound and yet so inconspicuous- it gets in through the skin pores, penetrates the veins and boards upon the blood cells for a free ride to the welcoming mind. It sets up a control center and directs the host.

I wish i was an infected host. A part of something. A trash bag of meaningful and important nothings. I wish upon a lot of things but it ain't christmas and santa clause has been stampeded in to a bloody pulp by the Rudolf the Red-nose Raindeer and his posse.

Blue or red pill?

Back in the zone

I made a good photograph..at least by my standards....It's been a while since i liked a picture i made...