It's when you walk through the night, reading a book, philosophizing, listening to the sounds in your ear that thoughts rain down like ashes heavy as a rock, tempting you to write down whatever thoughts pass through your mind. the bliss of sudden poetic enlightenment.
Reading Jack Kerouac as the night dies and the city glimmers with hope. Hope of a better future forgotten in the hands of those who create it. The music drumming in my ears as I walk down forgotten alleys praying not to be discovered by cannibalistic tourists devouring everything in their way. Hopeful but pessimistic. The cig is out, the book hanging over my arm. I'm on my way. Some day I will know eternal bliss, the beauty of the void.
The day dawns in its lazy slowness. Drunkards around me trying to find their way home. Home is where your heart is, they say. But you got to find your heart first. And that ain't easy.
Waiting for the bus now. Waiting for the drunken pranksters, the rich bitches in their Gucci dresses and Italian boots. Following the very paths society tells them to. I philosophy against it, but in my core am the very same. Brainwashed to take part in this dying machine. Despising myself for taking part in this soulless, self-destructive way of life where happiness is always a coins' throw away. At least I realize it.
I hope you'll have a good day.
Berlin, May 31st, 2008
