So that’s how I realized I was actually afraid of darkness, only by facing it. That’s the reason why when you face your fears all you earn is to know them, just like my enemies know my name. But there’s no point in keeping the secret under lock: panic is on the way.
And when you achieve that knowledge you only reach another instance of ignorance. As if you were running around a house, right? Tracking down the nicest door to creep in, and when you find it. And you reach the other side just to see it’s a bloody endless corridor with more than four-hundred-million doors. There’s really nothing behind those doors you will actually know: panic is on the way.
It’s such a shame. Shame on you. How the wind this morning told me we weren’t the lucky ones as I thought last night. Smoke and dope and tobacco and for crying out loud: we’re so fucking wasted. Wasted like waste on Wasteland when we actually thought we were from Wonderland. But both of us do know Alice
And the coffee and the cigarettes and the light of the television, the red mobile’s red led red and a horse-stomp in your back, and the stabs and the blades, and the broken devices, and the computer games and all that pressure, all that bloody pressure over your shoulders, and spider-man’s last words and turning the lights on, because I’m fucking afraid of drunkenness, aren’t I? (bet you read that the wrong way) and them, forcing me to turn it off again (the pressure again) and bleeding from the inside out (obviously my nose and throat). And for Pete’s sake here ir comes again (the bloody pressure again): panic is on the way, panic is on the way, panic is on the way.
[tomorrow is my birthday, or today, I’d rather yesterday]
