Yesterday I broke the bed that
I was sleeping on since I was a kid
and I sold it for 2 bucks.
The horrible dreams haven't left
my mind and I kill my self
at the fronts of all wars
once more...
During the days I do nothing more
than thinking about the hideous nights ...
During the nights I trap myself in the experiences
of the days and I kill myself again...
Life, a horrifying experience while
death is flirting with my senses.
Everything leads to the mental house
and everybody pushes me toward
its door, by patting my head.
Heterogeneity threw us at thousands of fronts,
everyone, every moment switches ravine
until someone steps on the mine,
and one out of two ravines is seeded
with thousands of those metallic devices. Dean Efkarpidis - dean@ergo-tech.com
