Saturday, 28 November 2015


    Five spaces. Then I begin writing. I took my shirt off and stood quietly at the edge of my bed. There I let a few hours pass by, just by looking at the walls. I feel my head spinning, everytime I try to get up from my bed. I can't even hold it up. Even then my thoughts are like mud.
     I decide to sleep. I don't. I just put on a record and lie down. Getting up and putting it on the stereo takes much more effort and time than usually. I don't think I'm drunk. I've never been.
     Then I just lie down. Drenched in misery and melody.
     How quickly would I die? If I jumped from the top of the parachutes?

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