I have a problem for I want disasters.
Oh, who could only know that I would be insane!
My eyes are shut; my world is going faster;
My ashtray soul will never fly again.
I’m always pleased with all my scars and wounds –
They teach me something that I surely will use.
I’m full of shit, pretending, tears and power;
Internal darkness is my only muse.
I even don’t pretend to make some marvels;
I’m worrying only if it could be late.
I’m painting pains of all existing colours –
My piece of hell in heaven you create.