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"She walked out with empty arms
Machine gun in her hand
She is good and she is bad
No one understands...
She will hide in silence
Then her day will come
She was virgin vixen
She is on the run
She is on the run
SHE IS ON THE RUN!!!"
(Kurt Vonnegurt je umro ove godine,bas skoro)
"Nikada se nece okoncati,
nece biti pomoci,
bez milosti,bez zivog stvora,
terace dalje,besmisleno,
kroz proizvodnju i stare navike,
nastavice se,bezglavo telo zivota,
setajuci stare setnje,
radeci sitne prevare,sanjajuci stare snove,
bice samo kao planina,
i uprkos milijardama bica,
nece biti jednog stvarnog bica,
bice beskrajna pustos,
i samo ce zivotinje biti stvarne,
imace cistotu oka i sklad,
bice ono poslednje,
jednostavno,cisto,
zhar,ono sto je istinski znacilo;
vuk ce imati srce i panter pluca i orao oci,
i poslednji ce rat biti
jedan covek koji sedi na stolici
i smeje se svemu."
"..A voda koju si pio iz reke postace krv na suvom tlu."
"I went to the worst of bars
hoping to get
killed.
but all I could do was to
get drunk
again.
worse, the bar patrons even
ended up
liking me.
there I was trying to get
pushed over the dark edge
and I ended up with
free drinks
while somewhere else
some poor
son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital
bed,
tubes sticking out all over
him
as he fought like hell
to live.
nobody would help me
die as
the drinks kept
coming,
as the next day
waited for me
with its steel clamps,
its stinking
anonymity,
its incogitant
attitude.
death doesn't always
come running
when you call
it,
not even if you
call it
from a shining
castle
or from an ocean liner
or from the best bar
on earth (or the worst).
such impertinence
only makes the gods
hesitate and
delay.
ask me: I'm."
"Optuzen sam kao takav.
dobro,ja sam atinska ruina,
znate vec.
vecito radim na ponovnoj izgradnji,
popravljam se.
ali kad sam sa ljudima,
nesto se oduzima od mene.
vecina ljudi tesko da je vesela
i retko da je zanimljiva.
slusam njihove zalopojke,
uocavam njihovu hvalisavost,
njihova neoriginalna zapazanja.
pretvaraju mi zivot u zev.
trazite da ih prigrlim?
ja ih ne mrzim,
ne zelim da ih porazim niti ubijem.
samo hocu da se sklonim.
samo kada sam sam osecam se najbolje.
to je moj normalni put,
kada klizim,lebdim,
kada bilo kakva svetlost ulazi u mene.
atinska ruina.
stari klosar.
bubasvaba u katedrali.
dobro vino.
duhovni razgovori sa madam Smrt.
san o zlatnim vetrenjacama.
udisanje zivota.
uzviseno zatocenistvo.
nezni zidovi.
ako ljubav prema tome
umesto prema covecanstvu
cini od mene mizantropa,
onda to i jesam,
do koske,
rado
sada
ovde
nocas
sutra
dogodine
sam sa samocom
konacno."
Drawing this box for you to recreate me into something i can never be. disease turned these clouds a infinite light and the winds a translucent glow. it seemed so easy to quit everything to remember. transmitted recordings of robot tracks to forget how everyone sounds. tightly formed mechanical wings, dwelling on how to save us all. never in control, never really having a chance. we're all useless with our eyeliner dripping in red. we let it fester always knowing that it was coming and i'm hearing things in my head. i'm hearing things all wrong. these arms failed to lift when my eyes forgot to open. everything left offsetting through the dryed paint that creates these butterfly wings, twitching and teasing now. standing here one year later with signs of red shining through a decade more. among the morning light of bedroom walls deafeated to know the danger in this. it's so easy to forget everything we swore we'd remember. we're all useless. if only i could keep the eyeliner from running i'd drive these roads to kill my own kind.
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