And He was asking him, "What is your name?" And he said to Him, "My name is Multitude; for we are many."
sad days ain’t that bad for me. when i’m sad i’m processing, i’m dealing with, i’m being able to cope.
anxious days, on the other hand, they’re shit. i feel blocked, unable to breath properly, frenetic, depressed, inappropriate.
happy days are good. loving days are better.
but the best days are the angry days. nobody’s got my pulse on angry days. every curtain falls, not in a grand finale, but because it is ripped down. the masquerade comes to a halt. all the violence I have to breath in everyday is briefly exposed, like a big solid chunk of concrete turn to pieces by the strike of a lightning.
oh, the best days are the mad days, the dead maze. no one can get their hands on a schizo. i’ll run in the rain, yell you out of my self, yell me out of myself, go to the nearest darkroom and get sodomized by Life while getting sucked by Death.
I’ll crawl out of there by the end of night, and as the sun rises I’ll have a few hours of rest.
‘Mornin, sir. Everything alright, and with you?’ the lightness that i carry is the wish that you would die. peace kills.
[image: Otto Dix, from Der Krieg series]