counterfeit

means to an escape. symbols drawn fast. the scarlet essence of night. my desperate attempt to create brueghel-like object from my flat. m.i.a.'s paper planes for the 22nd time. naked on this blue, shabby couch browsing through the badly compressed jpegs of my memory. the ashes of the sky. the patches of grey hair. the spiral of production - i am on the side of leftovers. because today is the greatest day that i have ever really know...

::: pirate skulls and bones sticks and stones and weed and bombs running when we hit 'em lethal poison through their system :::

the light that has to fade

good night she said. the morning raged behind the window. for the first time. everything was blurred when the train came. the sky was full of melancholic airplanes. dead leaves whispered under my soles. stop the clock. stop-the-clock. but there is no tomorrow for this moment. i will walk on, silent and broken, but i will walk on...

::: buried ::: 

"to se přece nikdy nestalo"

i will never take any other picture 

my camera is sick one day she will die and i will put her ash to the urn.

my hands - i cannot trust them anymore.

the rain makes beautiful colors. 

the rain makes beautiful deaths. 

puddles gravestones graystones blinds

the soft grip of rain 

ether

nitty

gritty

the soft curfew of rain

sleep

::: never happened :::

point zero

there is no tomorrow. the scarecrows are gone. i am the only one left here. the tender melancholy of the empty streets is overwhelming. the sounds are scarce. the weird feeling that the sun is here only for you. slowly, my lips begin to whisper the last incantation. you were never meant to last you knew it all the time. you were never meant to break the mirror. my breath is heavy now. touched by the eternity on the end of time. you were never meant to have hope. you were never meant to mean anything. sigh after sigh. this is the last moment. you were never meant to leave any trace. 

::: from on to off :::

sorrow

... and then it hit me ... my skin was shivering ... the pulse in my head was unbearable ... the world seemed to be hiding behind some smudgy plastic. i felt not exactly like i was being lost i felt like i was losing it. despite all the setbacks and tensions there was some beauty to it. it was something else after all - not an escape but an alternative. a real one?

::: my room :::

silently

the piano plays so slowly ... in peace with the rest of the world. i watch my rotting hand and i swallow codeine. the horizon of my table is so distant. the walls are so sonic. and my eyes are dead as dimanonds. the night waits outside for me to rip it up. but i am lying lazily on the floor of this room. t.b.c.

::: fire :::