Questions

So what is it going to be? Is it over, or the torute just began a new leap, a new circumferential step, an attack against my naked brain? I am lost. Every day that I wake up, take a shower, eat vitamins, excersize, get derssed, go to work, eat lunch, more work, come home, come again, come fucking again. I wonder - what is the point? Is it the craving for respect or attention? Is it the warmth of someones hand on your forehead, or a curl of fine hair caressing your back? Is it the wet, juicy kiss of warm, beautiful lips or a gentle, drowning look of so much beloved eyes? Or is it the frown, the hate, the anger, the neglect, the disrespect, the pain, the sorrow, the emptyness, the question - what is the point?

Or is it you besides and despite all of those things? Are you worse than heroine? Is it my addiction that makes me a depraved, hapless and ultmately lonely man that I am? Or is this just a pathetic excuse to cry, to whine, to complain, to excersize the right for paranoia?

Or...

Or...

Or...

And it is all of it and more, and it is nothing of above and less. The only truth I know is that I am lost. I clearly see my soul entagled in the web of despair. I see it suffocate in the prison of social retardation, the hopes, the needs, the lust, the purity of the excused sins.

This life seems to be just a mastrbation while watching the intercouse of free will, listening to its moans, its pleas, caress and almost touch.

So say we all.