this buzz won’t ever stop. i’m quite certain of that. the day will never end. never.
i’m in a box, the seat is too high, and i slouch until my back hurts.
i should despise myself if i ever find myself comfortable in this box.
50 x 110 cm?.
that’s my space. everything i own here.
but only for a limited time.
i don’t care to keep it a bit in order or clean anymore. i can’t bother.
waste of time. waste of energy.
i can’t look at my watch, i won’t look at the screen to have an idea of what time it is.
it’s always three thirty anyway. always.
sometimes, after ages and ages, it’s almost four. almost.
and i feel that my chest is heavy, and that my throat hurts, because i could be about to cry.
out of exhaustion, out of rage, out of helplessness, boredom, self-contempt.
look where i am. why don’t you ?
look what i’m doing here. why can’t you care ?
you think this is my life ? the only thing i’m good at ?
yeah fucking right.
and go to fucking hell with your brand new crappy shitty record.

i can’t.
i smile. i sigh. i yawn. i say yes. i say please. i say thank you. i’m a fucking robot. in a box.
i feel like screaming. something bigger than me, a scream that would shake the whole world. my whole world. their whole world, too.
an eternity until a short break.
another eternity until i’m done with this dull day. yet another dull day.
like so many of them.
i can’t. i can’t, i can’t, i can’t.
i’m going to break something. a nose. a screen. my knuckles.
whatever.
i’ll leave a calendar in my locker. with twenty-six crossed off numbers.
and maybe a picture, too. something dark and depressive. like a prison. something dead and rotten.
i’ll sign it.

the buzz won’t ever stop. it’s too late. it’s entirely in my head. beyond my eyes.
i’m going to puke. i’m going to cry.
buy your shitty music, you uneducated morons. you’re just putting your fingers between the wheels of a system that you’ll spit on on your own blogs. and i’m helping you. watch out, it’s sucking your brain out as well.
if you only have a brain, that is.

i’m free, inside, until i can get free to the outer world. freedom. i crave for it as much as it scares me.
at night i dream of warning signs all around me. i dream of red, of shouts, i dream of drugs and death.
but during the days, i dream of space, of white. i dream of purity and perfection. i dream of air. i dream that i can breathe.
i need a hand to hold, because i’m scared as hell. i’m so fucking scared.
i just want to make pictures and sell them. and there comes the whole mess of paperwork, income, taxes, laws and duties.
but one day i’ll meet the sun. one day i’ll shine. one day i’ll burn.
one day i will.
one day.

yeah, one day…