Tirade 1
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Words, which want to scream out of every fibre of your body. These you’d love to puke directly into the mugs of those notorious nodders, those yes-saying idiots, as you are yourself in real life, 24 hours day per day…..
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Empty words written on virtual paper. An experiment based upon the psychological advice that writing down everything sometimes does help…oh really?….
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Sentences, which beat upon your ego like clubs. They burst your wall of thought like soapbubbles, which was built up by the brain as self-protection…..
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You write, cause you can’t scream. They sewed your mouth, directly after birth…..
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Damned to emotional neutral since the lump of flesh that you’ve once been, was raised to being human – or demoted…..
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It’s like an itch, where one can’t scratch oneself – directly under the skullcap…..
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You still remain silent and watch yourself waste away. You eke out your ongoing miserable existence that you personify up until the great final, while your brain forms bubbles…..
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The powers that you’ve called on to beg their support or an enormous lightning strike that puts an end to everything…they can’t hear you…..
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Well, when your brain gets burned, cause those fascists of thought impose their ‘logic’and falseness, you can’t say nothing without leaving your social cover and get conspicuous or….
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Insane/….
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Behavioural disordered/….
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Socially unsuitable/….
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Unsound minded…..
© Sybille Lengauer
Translated by Giovanna Letizia
