Messages of one week.
Father of Hong, my brother, died.
Father of Jani, my good old friend, died.
Hacki, good friend of my very old friend Robin, died.
Mothers loosing – given birth to their unborned.
The Cambodian Government, the Hun Sen command, decided to prohibit NGOs in Cambodia. Not proofed yet. – I suppose they will controll more, pronounce more fines, easy money, you just need the matching law, close all orphanages.
Who kills, get killed or judges, dies or suffers next? Please don´t let me know until you are dead.
What is wrong with you Cambodia?!
The world gets smaller when it comes to death.
My motorbike accident seemed to be the fall, the fall of faith, the fall of something into nothing, of lost into here, right now, impact, ripped flesh, crushed bones, here, right in my eyes, right in my face, blood, red, live.
Messages in a black box.
Some people would say, for all of this there will be a reason. Of course there is, people die, death is a part of life, it is the end of life and not the beginning of a good reason.
I can not listen anymore my reasons, my explanations, my efforts to understanding. I can not stand anymore my minds, lost my trust. Did I do something wrong? Is that on me? Why? – What a stupid question is that. I was in both fuckin cases, meaning mess with the wrong road, myself, sober and not, but I did it, I fucked it, I enjoyed, I loved, I embraced, I felt alive, close for sure, intense desire of dying, watching myself die, my old myself, my self-destructive personality, challenging the worst, the dark, the eternal following shadow, me.
I can´t hide myself anymore, people here, my family, my siblings, my kids, they are breathing my eyes, their eyes are beating in my chest. They see the sadness, which is chasing me. Hunting my feelings, thirsty, since the first drop of life left my mother´s lap. I returned and runned into my shadow. I don´t know what life intend to say, it is shouting, yelling at me, I DON`T TALK YOUR LANGUAGE ANYMORE!!!
My family teached me, not that it is my fault, but that accident happened, because I didn´t go to the pagoda and let my bike blessed. I tried to tell them before, that I don´t believe, not because I am a foreigner, like they supposed, just because I don´t believe, I believe in coincidences, not in god or religion or the world´s merciful or cruel fate. I don´t give a shit about that. If something happens it happened. That was always my deal. And still is. If you have an accident with your bike here in Cambodia, don´t use it anymore, sell it, because this was just a warning, the next one will be worse. I am not gonna sell it, but I am going to bless it. You have bad cards, with a titanium bolt in your shoulder, broken ribs and a couple of stitches. How you gonna argue that? Maybe the Gods just split up the world, had some pots of bleeding grapes, roasted humans and divided up the rest of the praying sins, blind by their delusional dementia, not able to accept that nature is cruel, not fate or its strokes. And we are nature, we are the perfection of it, we give birth and kill each other, so lean back and enjoy, great mana! In two days I will jump back on my bike, get it blessed, get one of this red ribbons on my key and drive as fast as I can to fuck the next Up. Downs I have enough, I want to change, I really wanted to, but you taught me unmistakable, I will always be the doush in my bag, I carry it as careful as I believe in, my road, my lust, my hunger, my desire to life as fast as I can – to die young is not possible anymore, I feel as old as a wreck. I don´t want to moan around, I am not a victim, I am never want to be the master of my puppet and there is much more sadness bumming around in this world. I just wanna say, this last week blows my head off. Never felt so much pain, physical and mental. Never felt so lost. I searched for it, I got it. I don´t want you to stay with me, Lost, you are too deep, to climb, to fall, to suck, to disgorge, to live. Thanks for introducing yourself, please, leave, just release me for a deep breath, some happiness, some life to live, back, in my awareness, let me be aware again! Aware of living an illusion, I don´t give a fuck, I feel comfortable with this blue or red pill, wherever you want me to live, I prefer the other side. Appreciate your emptyness. But it´s enough now.
Thrill my ass!
Messages of one week.