Escapism or a lack of purpose

I haven’t been writing much lately. Inspiration left me long ago to go fuck someone else into mediocre poetry or some bullshit paragraphs of gibberish no-one reads. In her place, the brain-dead nothingness of a purposeless life has made herself ever-present…

Growing Up – or the Freedom of not Giving a Shit

Suggested soundtrack: Somewhere I read that happiness’ name is “it’s not my problem”. It’s a cynical truth and I guess it is the last piece of childhood that dies: the belief that we matter, the hope we can alter the course of history,…