mornings... who the hell are you, people? and why the hell you punish me for your love of all the sunrises? i can’t think, i can’t move, i can hardly undestand what am i. and i am – what – meaning “it”. it is lying in a corner.
i don’t like being “it”, i don’t like being dead, dear people! so please reconsider your behaviour! reconsider this vicious love of yours, change it, trade it. oh! dear people, don’t you know how good the evening air feels, how it touches your skin, how it makes something deep inside of you grow bigger and bigger. how this dear something fills you up to your warm red mouth. how it breakes from you. and now it is everythere, now – you are everythere. so small, so big, so – complete. don’t you feel it?
oh! to hell with you, my dear dear people. you never listen, i never say. so alright, continue your precious morning life, continue. and i, well i – i’m gonna eat a lemon, i’m gonna splash a hot water tea in my face. good morning, good day. welcome to the machine.
