خسته ام..

ای کوکب های ناخوانده مهمان خانوم --شاید هم مهمانهای نا خوانده کوکب خانوم--

                                         به گمانم بهترین خاطراتم بودید...لای اوراق زنگار کتب دبستانی..

دیگر نیست..ردی از شما و ان سفره مسخره!

                   خراب شد هستی ام.... در ارتباطی بدنی شاید
 
                                                                        تمام شد دیگر همه چیز...
  دستم به نوشتن نمیرود...چرت مینویسد...

باز اشکهایم روی کاغذ....پخش می شود جوهر خودکار..

هیچ کس نمی خواهد بفهمد...

مثل همیشه باید قهوه ای نوشید و مسکنی خورد و خوابید....

سردم شده از سردی نگاهتان...

                                            ایا عزیزم بمیرم راحت می شوی..؟


نیروانا: وقتش گذشت..حذف کردیم..اینجا فقط جای اراجیف است و بس!

life is a bitch!

Life is just too fucking complex. I swear to God sometimes I wish I could just go numb, not feel - not feel anything at all - because I do feel I hurt and I hurt a fuck of a lot.
And stupid things hurt. Stupid things that tell me that people don’t care about me. Why the fuck should I care who cares about me and who doesn’t? I will never understand why it is so fucking important to me to want to be liked, loved, respected - any of these things. I know that when it’s all said and done it won’t matter. It doesn’t matter if the whole world loves me or not, that isn’t going to matter. Yet the one thing that causes me the most pain in life is that I feel unloved. The next thing that bothers me is that there are so many people who are unloved, that the core problem, the one thing that makes this planet unbearable is that people are by nature selfish and uncaring. That people love those who are closest to them - friends, family, kinfolk, people that are in the same family, culture or sub-culture - whatever it is that provides the bond doesn’t matter, it’s that people don’t go outside of it is what causes others to be left out in the cold. That there is racial hatred, or hate between countries or cultures can only happen when people refuse to see what they have in common with one another and instead focus on the differences. Does this kind of shit bother me? This ‘bigger picture’ of hatred and self-centeredness? Well, fuck yes it does. It does because ever since I was ten years old I was going to be different. I was going to make a difference. I was going to surround myself with and find other people like me - and everytime this shit hits me, everytime I get overwhelmed with these feelings I remember how it was when I was young - how I was so full of idealism, and love, and trust, and so willing to take risks, and try for things - for big things - because I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know I couldn’t do them. I didn’t know I wouldn’t succeed. I didn’t know that people would ultimately prove themselves to be out for themselves and that I would just get used, chewed up and spit out.
So what the fuck is it that puts me in these horrible horrible moods? I don’t know. It’s so weird. It’s not even necessarily bad things. It must be my brain. OK some things make maybe a little sense. I mean, it’s not like I have alot of people in my life to care about or worry about or anything. I guess it’s a pretty lonely existence - though it is at least partly the result of choices I’ve made. One thing that’s been tough is getting some pretty harsh news about one of the few people I do care about. Maybe the only person I’ve had TO care about - and isn’t it so odd that in the face of seriously bad news the fear of someone I care about going through pain somehow translates into my pain? It’s almost as if even in caring about someone else there is somewhere selfish motivation. But what’s weird is the big things, or the bigger things seem easier to take. I don’t know why, but the little things are the things that, well, I don’t know….
I hate everyone, and most of all I hate myself. I guess I just don’t understand what it is that I’ve done to end up so all alone and so full of pain. It hurts today. It hurts alot - I guess everyone hurts some, and so I guess everyone cries sometimes. maybe today is just my turn. Well…today I just want to find a whole to crawl in and just ball my fucking guts out. I don’t know why I feel like this, but fucking life is a bitch.

دادا: جنبشی اعتراضی توسط چند شاعر و نقاش(تسارا(تزرارا) -اپ-هوگوبال-بانگو-هولونسبک-)در کاباره ولتر

دادا:نهضتی بین المللی

دادا:قیامی علیه تمامی مضاهر هنر..

دادا:زاییده نا امیدی واضطراب وقیام وهرج ومرج که از خرابیها و ادم کشی و بیداد جنگ جهانی اول حاصل شد

دادا:مکتبی طغیانی بر ضد هنر و اخلاق و اجتماع

دادا:جلوه ای از مخالفت سرسختانه