I was 13:

—Can I paint with my hands?

—Sure, I have brought gloved.

—I said “with my hands”.

I was 25:

“It is like drinking something with 200 degrees…”.

“I think I’m starting to ser it”.

“There are many ways to be high. See, children, dance, jump on the street. They are high”.

I was 15:

Using alcohol as an excuse.

Coward excuse to project part of my inner self: so much hatred… Wrath. So ingrained.

Excuse or mere tool

I write this at age 27:

I write, with my heart. I speak, with my heart. I breathe, with my heart.

There’s no need for dope, not to mention how much money I am saving. I take a coffee and it seems coke, I smoke a blunt and it seems peyote.

No more hatred. No more shame, I set them ableze, and I even didn’t need to wait for it Saint Juan Fires…

I don’t know how old I was, I ignore how it could happen;

But the toys died. The toys died. The toys always die. And the dead doesn’t resurrect.

Just a weird thought:

Rocks are alive, only that they are much less alive than I am. I am but cells and atoms, in a neat order.

DNA. It is still a molecule, as complex as it is. Even of Stars we say they are born, then die.

And ultimately, consciousness.

Cells renew, periodically. Even those which don’t divide do renew on the atomic level.

And me… Who can be certain there is an «I».

…

There Wille zur Macht.

A moment as good as any other,

To remind there are more Psychologist into Mercadotechnia than into the whole National Health System.

Ancient wisdom.

“When I am in a huge mess, I ask to myself ‘What would Jesus Christ do?’, and I dissapear for three days.”

Thus finishes the homily and the church says… What will they say,

‘Amen.’

Like you can’t find information about that dream on Google;

Like you should understand, If you truly want to read that article, you should also be able to read that language.

My heart was a path.

And somewhere you would be.

You could be there.

And I going towards you

Or you seeking me,

Or meeting;

Intertwined.

But my heart was a path,

And there you could be,

But my heart was a path, and it realized

A certainty.

The most real: Any step could be the last one,

And so fall dead…

But my heart was a path

And there you could be.

Intertwined!
And step.

Step.

Step, and

Misstep!

Because any step could be the last one,

And there you could be…

My heart is a path.

From life to death and from death to life. Five kingdoms.

It is cyclic.

It is not eternal. It wasn’t always there.

Likely won’t be for ever as well.

And yet unkown, the Sparks.

Of Life, not to say of Creation!

And its nature? Perhaps live out. No exceptions.

Plain insanity.

But one of the greatest, of History:

“My ideas are so good that they will survive my death.”

Ego. Raw and self-phagocytized.

Oldest game on this sick world.