You stick in your own head, wondering what the hack you’re thinking, and why you think its so clever. You are, for yourself, clever, at that very moment. The strongest clever you ever felt. Like being full after being hungry for more than, lets say, twentysixhoursfifteenminutesandsixseounds… or so.


After sniffing this white- you know- you felt like Hercules. And went to sleep. To getting up, having breakfast, and leaving to catch the right bus. Mr Hercules- what a dick.

Have no clue what i am talking about?

I am so sorry, darling.

Don’t give a shit.

It’s what most people do.

Feel free to have your own blog.

With horses made of cotton candy, smiles like marshmallows and trips like the Hight School Musical- perfect body’s with perfect smiles, prude love but naked all over. No sex, just touching, daddy thinks his daughter is hot, mummy likes to have a house duck- no dog, they suck and are so normal.


Plastic world.

Go.. write a song about that.

Where is that- the courage to stand critics of the others because you love what you do? Hell.