Löysin vuonna kirves ja kypärä kirjoittamani päiväkirjan, tai ne neljä osaa jotka siihen tein. Luin ne tänään läpi ja huomasin että päivät tässä paskassa ovat edelleenkin sitä samaa huttua jota minulle silloinkin tarjoiltiin. Jos teitä kiinnostaa voitte lukea historian siipien havinaa täysin korjaamattomana vuodelta (muistaakseni) 2001. Tuolloin kuvaamani päivät voisivat yhtä hyvin olla viime viikolla kirjoittamiani...

Noh, prologit loppuivat tähän. Tutkikaa pimeyttä jos sitä halajatte... P.S. Tribuuttia löytyy suuntaan jos toiseenkin. Kaivelkaa nyky"taidetta" jos haluatte ne teokset nähdä/lukea/kuulla..


DIARY OF A MAD(?)MAN

When I turn on the tv
I always hope there is violence
Because only in stealing the immunity of others
I feel free, free to be who I am
And not hide in the shadows, like the villains in prison
When somebody gets killed on tv, I see myself
And my thoughts, as if it was my own world
My own world, where only deception is true
Where murder is nothing else than an everyday action
Where torture is conducted openly in the streets
But then I realize that it would not be of satisfaction
The tv is only a stage, I want to be for real
When the sky is blue, how can I really know it is blue?
But the tv won't lie, will it? The blue is real
The scavengers are gathering around me
But I ain't dead
How could I be dead when I still feel alive
Or is the feeling just as unreal as the world outside of me?
I am not sure, the borders are diffuse, more than yesterday
Was that woman real? She smelled real
And her blood gathered into a small lake, a lake of tears
The tears were not her, neither were they mine
I can still remember her smell, it was a nice fragrance
But she left me, alone, but I didn't cry
I never cry, at least not when I'm conscious
But sometimes I feel different, enlightened, like someone else
Is it me talking, or do I change, like werewolves at full moon?
It is so diffuse, but still I try to remember
Sometimes it is very hard, I wake up at strange places
With blood on my hands, with a torn jacket
With no memory of what's happened
I think the world's at change
The water tastes sour and gives me a headache
And the heeps of birds have vanished
I do not no where, but yesterday I saw one, dead
I am not sure if I am awake now, but I really think so
Because I felt a sting when I poked myself with a knife
I think it's my own blood on my hands
When I turned on the tv they were talking about violence
They said there has been three unsolved murder's within a week
But then I woke up beside my bed, with my shoes on
I don't know if just imagined the whole thing
But something in my head tells me it is true
Still there are no news about it in the papers
I wish that it wasn't true, it would give me rest
At the same time violence makes me grin
I saw a murder on tv and it aroused me
Later on I felt sick and couldn't get out of my bed
I stayed in bed the rest of the day, I think
Now it's night, but I don't know if today is today
It feels like I'm constantly living another day, another life
My mom called and asked me how I'm doing, I hung up the phone
I couldn't talk to the woman, not now
I could remember the day I was born, there was blood on her thighs
And I screamed, but I wasn't afraid, I just felt restless
Now I feel the same way, my head is exploding, but it won't do that, not now
If my head would explode and no one would witness it,
Would it really happen? Or would it just be another hallucination?
I think I bought a gun the other day
At least there is a gun in my drawer, I ain't sure if it's mine
But it looks familiar, I think I've seen one somewhere
One that is like mine, but clean, not as dirty as the one I have
I don't own a license, maybe someone has left it here
I really dont know, but I have to rest


Today is not a good day
I don't like the world I live in, and frankly, I don't think it likes me
This is a another one of those days, when I don't feel comfortable in my skin
It feels like it's too tight or something, but it doesn't fit
Inside my head there are one thousand things, trying to get attention
But they won't, they just keep bouncing around, breaking the interior
At least a hundred men with hammers keep pounding my skull from the inside
But it's not a headache, it's something very different
Like they would be trying to get out, but can't make a manhole
It's strange, how a good day can turn into this, in just a split second
And there's nothing I can do about it, it just gets worse
I try to keep it all together, but the strings are too weak
They break, one by one, until there's no strings attached
All hell breaks loose and I feel cold death in the wind
Even if I'm sober, I feel drunk, but not in a nice way
Not in the way when the world feels almost ok
But in the way where it spins around and you loose the grip
The anger just grows, until you tighten your fists and scream
The world is a shitty place, but no one has told me it would be like this
There are no holds barred, I get skullfucked every day
I get fucked in every way possible, inside and out
I don't know who does it, but it ain't pleasant
A day off from myself would do miracles
Today was not a good day


I feel dead, in a dead world, rejected and mutilated
I'm standing outside a huge wall
It's the wall of life, but it won't let me in
I have tried, but I'm growing tired of it
Whatever I do, it won't give up, it won't let me in
But it offers me a shade towards the gazing sun, I'm thankful for it
Lately, there have popped up a couple of flowers in the vicinity of the wall
I've never seen flowers like that before, they look dead
There's no water out here, I've eaten my left hand and drunk my piss
It's not stabile growth, my hand will be finished by dusk
And the water in my piss is nearly non-existent
I puked out my guts yesterday and poked them with a stick
They made a funny noise, but it wasn't fun in the long run
I bled like hell, and collapsed next to one of the flowers
When I woke up I was one ear short, the flower smiled
I think it ate my ear, but it didn't answer when I asked about it
Hallucinations are very disturbing, I thought I ate my hand
I don't know if I did, but the mushrooms are gone
I think the wall cracked yesterday, at least somewhere
But it continues to both horizons, and the sound amplifies itself
It could have happened a million miles away, or next to me
I didn't open my eyes, maybe it just happened in my head
I have given up the hope of ever getting into life
I can't piss anymore, I'll be gone by tomorrow
If the cold wind arises in east, I might head out into the unknown
Away from the wall, away from the sun, away from life
I guess death won't pick me up today, I haven't smelled him
My 8th life parted from me today, only one left
It will be interesting to see what it thinks of me
I understand, but don't care, I hope it hates me
Like a horse with a broken leg, I'd be put out of my misery
That's what you get for trusting life and it's pathological lies
Tomorrow I will commit serial-suicide, as a protest towards this shit
Remember the skullfuck? Today my anus got penetrated by a spiked pole
It didn't feel to nice, I won't accept such treatment again
Afterwards I got a barbwired crown on my head
It made me bleed, even more than the flowers
I remembered their name, they are graveflowers...


I think he was here today, I saw a thousand mile shadow and it was noon
It stood next to me for a while, with a cold smile on its lips
Then it poked me with a razor and laughed
It went away and left me there lying
It was one of those kodak-moments you hear of
When the last ray of sunshine vanished from my sky
I have never wanted to die as much as I do now
But it won't happen, not before the world seizes
I'm broken, grinded with a sledgehammer to dust
Fertilizing the graveflowers that are blooming
The wall has moved three meters towards me, or perhaps I have moved?
I'm not really sure, it might be just another dream
My foot fell off today, I didn't eat it
I'm not hungry today and it's color made me sick
It still stands there like a gold medal winner
It irritates me, that my own foot thinks it's better than me
Standing there like a real asshole on the pedestal of annoyance
I tried to piss on it, but I couldn't, I'm too dehydrated
Maybe it's better that way, there's a chance that it will take me back some day
But I don't count on that. I'll probably leave it when I move on
I think I will follow the eastern winds tomorrow
I've heard noises from there, divine in some sick way
Like those sounds my foot makes when I try to talk with it
I might be losing it soon. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow
But I'm quite sure it will happen some day
Still it doesn't matter; insanity, what a fuckin' relief it would be
Wouldn't have to care about the world or its borders
Just one giant playpen for me to mess in, just to be, never think...
But no, it just keeps getting darker and darker
Perhaps the eastern winds will bring a brighter tomorrow
One without the shadow of life hanging over me
One where the sun will not go down as the clock ticks on
Where I could be whatever I want, not what I am
A dreamworld, never to come true, like death said to me
A whisper, as silent as a dead man talking comes creeping toward me
It mesmerizes the surrounding world and comes lying next to me
But I laugh hysterically, because it's all just a lie
A lie fabricated by the windmills of deception
The whisper left me. I feel dead. Is this the end?