2012-06-02 : 1 note




2012-05-15 : 2 notes


You did not look behind the colours, the shades, the expression of contempt. Content with the superficial beauty of your skin, slowly turning into a carcass from your insides, starving, drowning, disappearing in the mirror, a dead person staring back. Wake up or either fall asleep forever, victim of your scar-less self-mutilation ritual loop will never end. Pain will be a constant variable, a reminder of mortality, viciously devouring you from the inside, depression parasite in your entrails, biting, scratching. Take your eyes out. Your will to live will become a perilous step-by-step technical suicide of fate and hopeful blind hopelessness revisited, tormented, damaged, nightmarish, disturbed. Time will become almost infinite in front of your eyes, every small twitch will last a century of torture. You’ll be dying.


2012-03-19 : 1 note


Sympathy for the Filmmaker

A suicidal man and a filmmaker are standing atop a skyscraper.

- “Excuse me,” says the suicidal man, “what are you doing?”
- “Oh, me?” says the filmmaker. “No, I’m just risking myself a little bit.”
- “What, why? Who are you?”
- “Oh, no, I’m just a man of cinema. Please, do ignore me.”
- “Wait, no. Are you trying to stop me?”
- “No, no, please, just keep doing what you do and proceed to commit suicide as you planned.”
- “How do you know I’m gonna kill myself?”
- “Well, you’re standing in this rooftop, 54 floors over the ground, barely grasping to this wall here so, I reckon, you are trying to… well.”
- “But you’re also standing on top of this building, 54 stories over the ground. And you’re barely grasping to this wall too, so, are you trying to kill yourself?”
- “Oh no, I already told you! I’m a filmmaker. I’m here for the thrill, for the inspiration, for the human spectacle.”
- “Okay, but why you had to come here— of all of the ledges in this building, to mine?”
- “Because, you see, you’re my protagonist.”

The suicidal man stared at the other fellow in silence, his eyes wide open. He stumbled a little bit, but reached back to the wall.

- “Seriously?” said the suicidal man.
- “Oh, yes, indeed, my fellow sir,” continued the filmmaker. “I’ve seen your struggle, all this years. How you lost everything you loved, and fell into this river of despair that became the reason why you’re here today, miserable and downtrodden. For you see, this, your story, is the tale of a man, a human, a hero, and you must atone— you must rise!”
- “You mean, all these years, my life has inspired you to tell this story? My story? Wow, man, I don’t know what to say! But, hey, maybe you’re right! Maybe I am the hero of this tale, and I shouldn’t give up! No! Not like this! Yes! You’ve came here to save me! This is my new chance! I must atone! I must rise! Yes!”

The filmmaker reached for the now hopeful man’s hand to bring him back into safety, but the other man’s foot slipped, and so he was now dangling to his death.

- “Help me!” said the dangling man.
- “Oh, I’m sorry sir,” said the filmmaker, smirking, “but I suddenly realized that this story would be better the tale of a grandious, self-sacrificing martyr than another boring, melodramatic tale of redemption. But don’t worry, my friend, for I promess it will be my masterpiece!”

And so the filmmaker dropped the man’s hand.


Theme by M Janet Mars