a place of horrors

I could do a lot of things

but not here,

this place of horrors,

where the dread looms high,

temptations at every corner,

where doubts had etched into the walls,

tears soaked into the carpet

and hope buried under a sea of shit

Getting drunk on a monday

You shouldn’t do it

Yet there are places that are open

and serves you

what does the court say?

How do I explain it

to the jury?

It isn’t my fault

those bastards

want me to fail

your honour

The big guy with the wig

tilted his head

and held me

at contempt

of court

close your eyes

He stood from his seat and stared

Stared into an empty room that was dark

He had a better view standing up

The darkness was beutiful

It showed him stuff

colorless pictures

of other worlds

or perhaps the future

he stepped closer and bumped into the coffe table

then the spell was gone

and there was nothing there

getting good is bad

I didn’t believe it

I don’t think anyone believed


it was true


there was no punchline.

Tears welled in one guys eyes

then everyone cried

it was very sad

I wasn’t

I was mostly relieved

I wouldn’t miss this place

This place of idiots


Life feels like fate


I don’t think there is fate

A lot of it is luck

but there are other things that

we are in control


We know the answers

Listen to the heart

is the common saying

although I don’t think anyone really

know what that means


Some are keen listeners

others don’t

How else can I explain

the voices in my head?


I talk to myself

I think that’s common

but I wonder

how many writers

do interviews

in their head.

I’ve become famous

and I say how it all started

when nothing has begun

my humble origins

I think often about that future

when I’m popular enough

to be interviewed

talking about how I struggled

ultimately victoriouss



A goddamn headache, that’s all I get

still I drink it

bitterly, cheerfully I gulp it down

It’s dry and turns my head into sand

Drink a glass and have two

the whole bottle

I never get a headache in bars


because I paid three times more for that glass

than at home

I drink to not think

to let my mind loose and run around like a goddamn dog

You don’t need a drink if you’re the master

I am not so I got mine on a leash

what to do about my day

I feel bad about not making time for the things I’m supposed to do.

It’s not a lack of time that’s the problem it’s the other thing, human things, that is within my control

Hence I feel bad

I blame my environment but I’m lazy, I know this.

For some reason reading and writing is the easy thing to do when I got nothing else.

What makes my apartment suck up all of my energy?

I think my life is comfortable, too comfortable

Maybe I should quit my day job? That would put fire under my ass.

Why do I have to do it, though? Who cares if I waste my time anyway, is there something lost?

You live to create things, if you can. Everyone create something; a life, a reason to exist, an income, someone to hate, a reason to fight? a reason to love. What’s to say they are good or bad, they are all reasons to live.

What’s my reason other than feel joy? I can make people feel good around me but that’s no reason to exist. My writing is perhaps my reason. Maybe that’s why I don’t write all the time, because it’s just too important.

Nobody created anything worthwhile by being happy, it seems like.