"I wish I knew you in another life where you could talk about yourself."
What is there to talk about?
I am the boy with his face ever painted in the blood of a recent wound. My eyes, quick typewriters, sending frantic messages from beneath a german hair-cut. I smile and laugh. Always humming a Travka piece on my lips and concealing a girl in the back of my mind. The song always changes and sometimes even the girl. All according to the stirrings of the heart. This mind is a radio set on the frequency of madness. Plugged in to the electrical joy of its soul. I have little time for lamentation, yet somehow I am fairly patient with the people that fill their time with it.
I am a child. Selfish and insecure. I crave for affection like a caged animals yearns for freedom. It is my illumination. It is my curse.
I sleep for hours on end in front of a mirror. Young and proud, I walk the sidewalks of the continent just as I was born. Just as I will die. Smiling, but alone.
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