entfall @ 2008-12-09T14: 54:00
I do not remember when I was the last time you felt really alive, the old familiar painful tendons I would burst the body, uncontrollable images and words and music to shred-like rash ill in a wild sequence rampant in my brain.
There's just emptiness and constant aimless inner turmoil - which is probably in the spirit of Fromm's lack of productivity and amplified by the single excitation and still all that unused lasting effect of nicotine, the all voltages are not deflected goal-directed (left out, acted out) and thus remain in a 'dam itself and wear down.
If I could only bring myself to doing something and not always so stark was tired (physically and mentally), but is probably all the many theoretical possibilities nothing more than my imagination, like a free will that decides and it selects Perhaps Schopenhauer is right: but what do I know already, that's me all too high.
0 comments:
Post a Comment