That morning I woke up with an headache / the mouth full of mud bleeding out of my gums / the pounding motherfucker that I couldn’t reach not even with a coffee as bitter as my sense of humor / eyes clogged up with acidic tears cuz I’m too dehydrated to cry / that’s ok : Irony’s no longer the only way my time is wasted, so wasted, exhausted but jaded not enough to not feel the pain of the two guys kidnapped by a gang in the middle of a wide awoken street with no resistence, because they knew too well what would happen to them if they did / and that’s just one drop in the ocean of violence that comes along with those dressed in uniforms and howether much day after day and weeks after weeks in which we try to compensate by small victories all of the greater losses even if we already know those numbers won’t add up / I am not one to care much for efficiency and maths were never my strengh. because from being one of these people who are « nothing » it doesn’t have to mean THAT we don’t do shit because how much ones get paid to destroy a forest or build the bomb that tears wide appart a whole city block? how much does one gets paid to evict their neighbors? yeah, how much did you got paid for that? the world is fucked by people doing their jobs then doing nothing is the very least I can do / and jinxing the heck out of tiny sparks of hope to light out the despair off the whole fucking world there’s nothing to save that we couldn’t rebuilt or else it was not really needed to begin with / taking comfort in your friendships while all the rest lays to pieces there’s nothing to save that we couldn’t rebuild or else it was not t really needed to begin with / taking comfort in the ruins of a society / in which we were never really meant to be living / but working, consuming and breeding and dying, not really meant for anything but eventualy breaking free.