I am a moment in time, a static prism through which white light may travel and be blown to bits, into its make up. Like DNA and RNA, this is the truth and nothing else but it. Truth is too small to see, to big to be comprehended, I am totally high on sherbet. This is the first night in April, in the year. This is the first warm night that I can remember in recent history. This is a night I am trying to own, to make my own and really have it all to myself, but it is difficult to have something all to your own, but that is the route to love, the route to satisfaction. I cant interpret other peoples, I cant understand them, cant believe even that they exist in the first place, I can hardly even believe in myself, believe in my body, believe in anything other than the pleasure principal. Its difficult to release a pressure situation. There is no relief, its relentless. Pay nothing forward, pay nothing upward. Check flag, czech me out, lessons learned in Prague, questions asked in Berlin that never got answered. God that cities one big question, it makes me think of red bull and thai food and how they blend unhappily but well. We all come into this world in the same state, crying and slimy but I'm here. If I didn't tell you how the fuck would you know.
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