Inside the gap between vast emptiness and the idealism of void

this is where i lose my mind.

Now i can really understand why Joy Division don't fit summer.

It's almost November.
I went out running.
Earphones on and the cold air is hitting my face.
One slow hour running and feeling around the streets.
Getting closer to unknown pleasures.
Curtis shrieks in my ears.

"Where will it end? Where will it end?
Where will it end? Where will it end?"

And i'm weeping a tear from my face, not knowing if it's from the cold wind hitting
my face
or
from the cold inside my soul.

Dear Proletariat,

I crucified myself for the sake of being relieved.
I speak throught the wormwood that eats my cross.
I ride the chariot of reinforcement for a walk around hell.
Earth is the coldest lake i've put my feet in.
My toes are cold and broken.
My nails are biting my skin.

I'm nailed too hard it feels difficult to stretch my legs.
The air is hitting my face.

I'm guilty by design.
Born guilty, lived in sin.
Severed my ties, now i'm free to die.

This is my favourite season of the year.
Autumn.
Coffee, sad music, bad weather, running in the cold, rain, warm clothes, memories of ex-lovers, the view out of the window, my new room, fashion tips from bums and old people, Is This It? and Turn On The Bright Lights.

it feels strange
having sex with friends.
but, i can't deny
the eroticism of such acts.

it feels strange
having sex with friends.
it will never feel the same again
or you may just feel more inside them than ever before.

Today is Sunday.
The diary says it's the 25th.
I don't work today.
I woke up and washed my face, served myself a cup of coffee and then two more.
No sugar, i always like my coffee plain.
I smelled the rain.
I washed the sheets.
Felt like something is not right.

It's afternoon and i saw my therapist.
He said i have delusions.
He said i should sleep more than 3,5 hours and not drink too much coffe.
He said i should not wake up at night.
Something is not right.

Now,
I will go home turn on the TV and get lost for hours.
Feed my eyes with commercial waste.
Get stoned with coffee.
Eat chocolate until i can't stop laughing, like a little child high on sugar.
Talk to you and you'll sing me to sleep.
You will disappear when i close my eyes.

You always disappear and when i close my eyes,
making me realize you were never there.
My therapist is always right.

selling this is my main interest.