#Miscreated #AloneIntheDark 🌑 #Postapocalypse #Survival

I kiss your lips, your shoulders as if it’s the last time every time. My love, they are beyond the reach of time, because I have come to know them.

There is an opinion that freedom is the ability to set your own boundaries of what is permissible. Often, I censor the thoughts that I want to express. I am not free in front of my own sincerity, in front of my own declaration. This is worse than physical captivity, in which one can be free through three bars, if one feels so. A bird landing on a prison window does not think of captivity. Relativity and absurdity.

You all know where to find him. He lives in every lonely bar.

Art has always touched me deeply, as have the people who create on the “thin red line.” Those who walk on the edge of thought, on the brink of madness. Those who boldly stare into the eyes of death. Those who live by their own rules and conventions. Love, tragedy, drama, and all of this is a person I so diligently try to rid myself of. He is both God and executioner. Both terrify me within myself.

«Speech is silver, silence is golden.»

The evening’s sad feeling envelops me, As the sun sets and the shadows grow around. A gentle wind whispers words of peace in my ears, Yet my heart still leans towards melancholy.

The golden light of the sunset spills over the horizon, But in my soul there is only darkness and sorrow. A sad song plays in my head, And I feel like this is exactly where I belong.

The evening melancholy embraces me with its embrace, And I feel that it’s time for solitude and reflection. But in this silence I find peace and inner harmony, And I feel that the evening melancholy is a part of me.

Edith Piaf art, 40s

Mon amour! Il n’y a rien de plus en phase avec les élans du cœur. Tout sera défoncé et disparu. Seuls deux mots resteront sur les lèvres refroidies. Deux mots pour lesquels vous respirez l’air de cette Terre.

Edith Piaf - La foule

www.youtube.com/watch

my faded youth, how painful and beautiful you were

first impressions are not deceptive. first words are fresh and true. the first sentence is always a red-hot steel knife over everything that needs to be said.

When I realized that a person has no barriers or obstacles in front of another person, a whole different world opened up to me. There is no language we speak, no what we believe in, no skin color, no nationality, no borders. There is nothing that we have divided ourselves by. There are only eyes through which I can feel your joy or your pain. There are only eyes and they are my own, no matter how it is.

Lolita (1997) Screen adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov’s novel

The Thin Red Line (1998)

mon admiration ma joie éternelles et dévouées

Edith Piaf art, 40s

numbers, any sequence is an abstraction. words are their nebula.

International Karate C64 (1986) https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.phoenix_games.international_karate&hl=en_US

“The mob must always be dismissed as something as insane as a river full of vomit. Once you put the mob in the wastebasket where it belongs you’ve got a chance…” — Charles Bukowski

there is no world of mine, there is one shared world that was destroyed long before me, and I am merely hiding behind its wreckage.

useless days, like most of life, disguised as supposed self-development. yet there are moments of selfless love and admiration. silence and inaction, long and insurmountable, like a scourge, like a burden, like unnecessary thoughts presented by the mind.

everything will pass, everything will plunge into nothingness and will choke on time. Lord, why?

i don’t want a struggle. the struggle will lead me to frenzy, the frenzy will lead me to the end, but not to walking. i still have something to say to myself, so i need just a path.

I put vanity behind my shoulders. No one should read this but myself. But if it exists, then it exists for yet someone else. So let that someone burn it instead of me, for all this is nothing, and this nothing will dissolve in time, like everything that lives and does not live.