Trees that wear hats

A moment to acknowledge my personal broken-ness. This rusty old machine build to fear and love... She seeks pleasure and can think deeply for very brief times. The idea of setting aside all desire in the conquest of peace is slowly and painfully creeping in... whilst the old rusty machine remains. I am still craving for someone to ackowledge my rustiness, I am still trying to escape the harsh whirlwind of my perceived reality through efemere and unproductive, hedonistic habits, that only seem to kill my mind. I hold out hope, but I feel tired. Should or should not have sort of blended within me. Paradoxes cloud my mind... perhaps my curiosity (awh, what an ego)... I mean... my questions... have gone too far. My cracks itch to be revealed... I still hope you are there. I wanted to write about politics and economy... utterly couldn't, sorry. But holding hope. Peace sells. Too little buyers. Adolescents. By the way... do re mi fa sol la si do... the guy who invented these s

I thought I saw my greatness overcoming all the evil... oh. It was just a shadow, extending from within. A car yawns by... it smells of rosemary... The sage has fallen from the edge... asleep. The crown itself was beheaded. The raging seas quacke beneath the shadow of the Earth... grass has ceased to consume America's fresh water. The empire stretches and marches on... like a balloon forgeting from where the air comes. Nonsense... irrelevant,  irreligious,  U.N. Charisma seems to have made itself into a throne... or a C.E.O's desk... from which letters of apology are being sent: "In your last letter you asked me: who do you love? I am sorry you have to share that green presidential mirror." The sage is blinded by his own sun. The same son that carried out his words. Overgrown and underachieved... overrated and unemployed. Peace has been sold. Main ingredients: war, change, adolescentine armies. Who buys? I keep praying to the snow outside... but its March alrea

I really love you... but I hate it when you want to taste the moment because of your need of comfort and happiness and not because of the experience it gives. A trunk growing too freely ends having knots and not strong enough to withstand the force of the sun. I apologize for my direct and shallow train of relentless thoughts. But I care... and you seem not to.

What was carved to relieve pain now serves more hedonistic purposes... how momentary ideas seem to affect every touch and conversation... up to the very writings fingers will leave to the posterity... To receive more than you give seems unreachable. To receive as much as you give... is that happiness? Why be happy? It never lasts, it always wants more... digs a hole that demands to be filled...  To give more than to receive... how noble. But does one really? "You'll feel good if you help. Help to go to heaven. If you help, the world will be a better place." NO! Maybe my world will be a better place, but the world entire will hate and despise me. People do not need help nor machines. We need constant lessons. Can you not see? How computers steal our concepts of nature, of natural, of beauty and of rigour? We demand our minds to be taught and entertained, we criticize, we're afraid to the point of fear... People need lessons. Cruelty can be sublime... for

-Ce? -Nu: ce. Poftim. -Ma rog. Ce ai pana acum? -Paai... "Sitting at an empty bar/watching people from afar..." -Slab, slab. Vrei sa portretizezi un om melancolic si indurerat din nou... a ajuns sa te defineasca. -Si? De ce judeci asa mult? Nu e o idee originala, dar e ce simt eu... -Si crezi ca... -Taaci! Uite... ti-ar prinde bine sa te gandesti la individul asta. Si tu esti singur si frustrat si faci la fel. -Dar sunt doar un copil... nu am voie sa iau o pauza de la morala? -La viata nu poti sa dai pauza decat o data... -Puteam sa jur ca ai sa spui dragoste in loc de viata... -Nu imi place cand vorbim asa... -Imi pare rau... oare de ce gandim asa irational cateodata... cat de rau imi pare... ma doare rau, rau de tot. Dar am sa ma iert... asa ajung la tine. -Si eu am stat departe, ce e drept... -Si toata discutia asta si invataturile sunt asa puerile si previzibile... -Hey... vrei sa-mi arati partitura aia de care ai avut grija? -Da... e scrisa in Mi. -Minor

My tired hands have worked hundreds of circuits and motherboards and have teased kilometres of skin and they look for a glass of water. Suddenly, the kitchen window is broken by a smoke bomb. I forget about you and jump for safety. In my childhood, my mother used to forget me in the bus station. A masked man enters the kitchen and steals my glass of water. You have been my lover for 15 years, and get reminded of how much you miss your heart, which i own. Then I reprogramme you to repair the window and a tree suddenly grows through the living room. We make a seasaw through its trunk and fall into the love-slumber. When we were kids, we were afraid of each-other. I am crazy.

God is... the bloodstream before it reaches the brain. Obviously, the brain cannot survive without the blood. But if the blood doesn't reach the brain, it stops being blood, for there is nothing to call it blood. Personally, I am quite fond of this... interdependance, arisen from mere dormant thoughts, suddenly clashing together in my... sigh... brain. Yet, everything seems to be fueled by paradoxes... or rather, ignorance and uncertainty.... I hate to leave things unfinished (hopefully not deception)... But there are things I cannot put an end to... so, for the sake of my own sanity, here they are: The world has (no) intrinsique purpose. Our free will is (not) a paradox. We can (never) be sure of anything. (deeply sorry for the misused English... or is it misused?) I am afraid that people help others only to satisfy themselves. Sarcasm is (not) a form of frustration. The mind is either adapting or growing weaker. You either discover or create

There was a time when a man used to let himself starve in order to audition for a band. There was a time when all the pain a child could suffer amalgamated into a mind to produce the words that would heal others drowning in despair. There was a time when a note, held for longer than it was the custom, broke millions of hearts.. A time when teachers were afraid, when insane men were at ease. When Time and Money were finally separated... Marooned, On an island. Hey you, the man who has set my mind free, who has broken my heart only to mend it again... Hey you, my idol and my friend... How I wish you were hear, Thank you for not letting me exchange my heroes for ghosts... Thank you for tearing down the pink wall of emptiness. Thank you, my hero. Thank you, David Gilmour. And happy birthday.

get me out of here because i am losing hope that i can myself and i am really scared because i do not know where i am and i am so afraid i can barely breathe anymore... come on, you've always been there, helping me, feeding on the fake promises i could never keep... please, please, please, i am crying and feeling bad for myself like a child, please, i am too afraid and i feel alone and i just want to say that i am sorry, at the least... show up, am i not a human anymore... i know i'm lazy and don't deserve it... i know some fake problems got me here... i know i shouldn't but please, please, my bones have started bleeding and my spirit is shattered and i can't be anything anymore... i know i shouldn't even be crying, that i have the solution in my hand and no excuses. there is no but... i cannot go on without a but... too hard to grow up, to be responsible... too much failure, too much fear and hatred, i just want it to stop... i'm weak and ravaged, in an oc

"Ai un singur bloc de marmură: dacă îl întrebuințezi pentru o figură caricată, de unde să mai poți sculpta o Minervă?" T. M. "Din combaterea fricii de neînțelesul grotesc uman prin parcurgerea unui alt nivel de deschidere față de natural, unul în care să domnească, cum se cuvine, nesiguranța și certitudinea inexistenței unui absolut, în care nu cunoștințele și principiile, ci adaptarea și înțelegerea să sculpteze pentru ca noi să continuăm. Nu apele liniștite au creat Marele Canion. Nu lucrurile ușor de înțeles ne-au împins spre a întreba mai departe. Dar înțeleg frica."