Extreme Outflow

Those are days of thunder. Most of the time i get the feeling i am a verm, scavanging the dirty surface of this world that is my body and my home. When have i become so shallow? So absorved in self-pity? I want to cease this feeling. I talk to no one. I see no meaning in anything. I stay in bed and make no move. I might as well fulfill my dreams now. They are far behind the road of life and as life drives forward they have remained static, each second smaller. I silence. I enjoy the pleasure of framing unseeing photographs. Still I could use a friend. Still I could have been loving and enjoying life. i am weak and there i see no purpose in evaluating myself in any high regard. Death thoughts are crushing me for the very first time. Maybe it was all really written in lines before me.

.Gif

Typography

Nail (Taken with Cinemagram)

Pouring polish (Taken with Cinemagram)

Gamer #gamer (Taken with Cinemagram)

Boys #boys (Taken with Cinemagram)

If the window was opened he would have crashed my face. 

At the end it was a way to look cool and to make clear we were so bored about being cool. We were building our own Requiem for a dream and getting lost inside those lines. It had nothing to do with our moms and dads. It was about us and the fact that, by then, we still ignored we would become exactly our parents and our sons would make of us a portrait even worst of what we once despised for being the worst of all lives.

One might say it is a fundamental string of continuation of life, but there is where we disagree: this string goes far beyond the act of birth itself, since the genetic imprint is projected in the day life of the species.