i want to destroy things. sometimes i start with myself.

i love the silence. i love the fucking silence.

there is no reason to be so wasteful with my time. no reason. but i am in the waiting you know. not in the now. so very rarely only so. i am talking way too much. i am puking words. i hate your fucking words. i hate your guts. i hate to puke. i hate... well, nothing really.
juggling nothingness in my right hand while i flip you off with the left hand: i wish i was a bitch.
i wish i was: meaner. you are mean. what do you mean? is that meaningful?

i discover somewhere in my mind a room: you are in it! with someone else. that´s so intriguing. i can´t go there. but i am so intrigued that i know you are in there. that i just know it.

i think i should go dancing now.

and i am not sure if i like niceness at all.

at all