Intro..
Draw...
Poems..



       People are recipes - said by bookish language:
as the years go by     - this feeling deepened in me.
For example:     when I'm explaining my motives to my
neighbors (my life is the life of a punker - it grows
crest on it)     - I always feel then kind of fucked:
actually already during it - no, back     - I ask the
recipe:  because when I'm explaining my motives to my
neighbors: it starts in me:      an obtrusive need to
apologize and devalue myself  (I am a Christian in my
soul)  - which: in most people: immediately initiates
a search for the right recipe for getting out of this
unsuitable position for me: and: whack!
       :I got it. 
       This does not apply only in those cases:  when
I rarely: do not self-depreciate    - then I only get
the recipe for free: at the end: and:   that's when I
feel fucked until afterwards.
       Several times:    I didn't get a recipe at the
end: but a silence:   which had the same effect on me
as the recipe.
       From this: as is evident:          without the
slightest hesitation: results only one - I'm: already
never really longing:     to explain my motives to my
neighbors. Never!   I will only do so: exceptionally:
in the state of alcohol: caffeine: endorphin or other
chemical intoxication:     or just - if I follow some
other mysterious subversive objectives by it.



Back...
Along..
More...