pedrolira
well well well, i think we have here a classic case of ... bullshit. Forget about the racional, or the fun side of life. It is a struggle, a permanent struggle between today and tomorrow, between doing it or delaying. Libraries versus the beach. What are the main components for equilibrium? Or the way?
(1*)fortress, what the hell does this even mean, i was hopping for some other kind of word something a bit less hermetic, like void or empty, just as this plain dead day i had out there, i mean, come on, give us peasants something good enough to think of, i cant shell hide in no more, this day job is twisting my mind, i´m dying waiting tables, how long more, how long more for do i, how long more, i holding my struggle tight here at my bay, here at my,(...*1)
i got up this morning with this huge headache, i couldn't stop thinking about my girl who flew away to the big city. So i had these words echoing in the poor head of mine. My baby left me, she run, she run, she drew dry my love, she flew away but i don,t care.
zero, nada, niente, no hay banda, by the way that last expression belongs not to me, these days are lingering between the doing and being and the awful existence to support my own mortality defaults such as the two bottom stages of Maslow pyramid scheme. Hanging between these two conditions.
It had been a rough Sunday for them. Waking up to a harsh and urgent phone call, the head chef of the family had been involved in an accident. So it seemed at the time for the police investigator. Emotions on the roll, death had been busy among that family.
our first walk.
Fresh rainy night under the Christmas lights.
i was happy but trying not to show to much. I was simply enjoying her presence.
I had her surprised by my chill and made no effort to go out of my way to please her.
By the time we came to the end of the road and waved goodbye i saw her scared eyes
wondering if that was going to be the last time we saw each other.
smooth and slippery
Shipments and pavements.
No time to lunch. he thought that by saving his own time in a container nothing outside that realm would go forward, what a waste of time
absence of the mind upon hitting the keyboard. he felt like the genius symptoms of the previous days were gone, today he was l'inspiration null, the living statement of an empty recipient
i was starting to feel quite uncomfortable with all those clients that came when i feeling hungry. I felt like having a rest, just a slight inch of stretch. Man, that time between 9 and 10 pm. what i waited for it all day long. and then as i just barely placed my lower back on the wall for a dip dip break of small relieve, someone can in and i had to stand still and upright, leave my fucked up dinner and give all my attention and good manners to these free-time people. I fucking hate club sandwiches. fuck that whole world of perfect khaki, shining shoes, fuckhole minds who listen to crap deep shit music, who love to seat hours straight, endless countless days after days on the cafes, dam you, free-timers, dont you have anything better to do?... damm, and then, i fucking start to hate my self, for envying them, for the stillness of their oceans, for the easiness of their plain soups and excess of numbness, daam you be. And whole that made me wonder about me, its all about me, fuck, its fucking sad, this shit of looking just to your own feelings, so narrow minded, but im pushed at this condition, why do you make me question myself? IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! IM A GOOD MAN! ... am i?
[...]
-what kind of man am i? - he asked himself looking sideways to the mirror, he could not bear the sense of looking straight into that abyss he found inches away from his face, the reflecting endless eyes of his devolved by the reflecting questioning surface.
- What the fuck are you doing? Taking to yourself? he felt weird, having another simultaneous voice considering and observing his unleashed actions. Like there was another man on the background of his room, waiting for the chance to intervene spot on.
load more entries
writing since 2012 · 16 entries · 13 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means lyrics showed up.
2longest streak
13days written
0.1entries / week
the words lyrics reaches for
anotherfeelingfreeemptystandingwaitingdefinitelylookingfuckfuckingstrugglerainhappyguiltylivingroom