“Jesus ist nicht sauer, dass sein Geburtstag an Weihnachten ist.”

Bart Simpson

This ist so fucking awesome. No, it’s not the picture of cocoa, i promised. :D

(via itsaboutinterior)

Uhm, kinda tired. It’s cold, cloudy and I miss my cuddly blanket. I really could use a big cup of hot cocoa. (Well, I’m not quite sure if this is the right word… have to upload a picture of it, later!)

Poetry of metropolises

Surprisingly it’s nearly a whole year since I wrote my last post. No, it’s not on tumblr. I don’t even know how to pronounce this. Tumblr. No Idea.
But that’s not the point.
The last time I was aggrieved enough to let my fingers stumble all over the keyboard as if they were pups, I’ve got fairly emotional. This time it’s quite the same. The reason is ridiculous and I’m tempted to sitting in front of my laptop gaggling till I can’t take a breathe anymore. Laughing, crying, like I’m completely insane.

Some peole tending to find poetry somewhere between my words, even if there isn’t anything like that. Because they are just words, nothing more. But people always try to find the beauty of dust and dirt. Something like the poetry of metropolises. The beauty, which make you feel like puking you heart out, while you’re kicking the bucket in the light of a luminous advertising. It’s an horrible beauty. Poor children, with a skin out of paper. As slight as if it have to crack. Ist that, what you call beautiful?
Well, not everything, which plucks you to your heartstrings, is beautiful. Sometimes it’s nothing but breathtaking angst. The fear, that this kind of poetry is like hell. Created by us. There simply is no beauty in people’s suffering.

 

“See, I’m not a monster. I’m just ahead of the curve.”

Joker (The dark Knight)

Memory from 27th of September. Just to upload something, filling the page, you know?