.

from *to die for* to *bored to death* in two steps.

everything is so predictable these days.
yesterday and the day before.
and i need more bloody gore.

in preparation for something to come.
for infinite dimensions.
for the marvelous.

but after pointless efforts to amuse myself.
i get in the cab and lit a cigarette.
and i stick to the infinite.

you know all the alleys, all the roads, all the ways,
it all leads to the very same empty place.
and who's to blame?

the rain that never came.
the game that never ends.
myself, i'm never ashamed.

i want to see less.
i want to want less but if only i could
hear less i would make it through this mess.

so i speak out loud and tremble
and weep in every direction.
to my own senses.

steaming.
in the blue night
of the chemical roses.

*an intelligent hell would be better that a stupid paradise*
____________________________________(victor hugo)

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