Novi_sad

Transuniversal fantasies. Blind or deaf?

Transuniversal fantasies. Blind or deaf? Blind or deaf?

Transuniversal fantasies. Blind or deaf? Blind or deaf? Blind or deaf?

Selfless elephants are pissing onto fake smiles and nauseues faces. Suicidal woolen souls attacked from everything, anytime, everywhere. Stop it and shut the fuck up! There are still waves, lakes and the big roads waiting for us.

Hug the speakers, make love to them, kiss them and caress them like a baby in danger.

I am haunting the dissolved lines of geometry. No angles, just circles, you are caged into the lovely abuse of clinical chaos. Eternal chaotic inertia is my only refuge.

Every dialogue is a social AND individual hypocrisy, it just fills the need of hearing ourselves in a louder volume than talking to the walls of a dark room.

The eyesight of the reindeer is the opposite of any number and, lately, the substructure of this house is built on tears and sighs.

The future, the future, the future… What future? Fake smiles are like a chainsaw. But there are -still- those eyes staring at you, yes they really look at you. No, listen! They look at youuuuu! And then you feel like a transparent dolphin!

I mean that there are some dreams when you see exactly what would make you happy in reality. And then you wake up. And you try for seconds or even minutes to keep the story goes on. I think that this half awake state with the simultaneous effort to ‘extend’ the dream is like a wolf smiling.

Have you seen a wolf smiling?

-Written in a wall-: ‘Music is the healing force of the universe’. Yes, it is.

Transuniversal fantasies. Blind or deaf?

I put the mountains in my pockets, the sea on my back and with my knees always bleeding I started crawling again…

I dreamt of you sleeping and I woke up.

The only absolute feeling is mourn. Everything else is imitations, illusions, volcanoes or fireworks. Crying from happiness is equally good but there is always a loss in the backyard.

This is a colosseal ceremony of loneliness.

Blossoming inertia uber alles!!!

Anechoic parks inside our chest, don’t you know madam?

Now, a question: What material divides the bottom from the lower?

We will never be 16 again, but certainly they will never turn our hearts square-shaped. Never!

Do not let the memories get rusted because love is always violent and eclectic. You know that you cannot backup your insides.

Panacea is only the smile of a wounded titan.

Which sun?