Mourir

I'm fucking asphyxiating in this room, we are the communique. Debord reborn. This is what life has become, a calculated spectacle. We dace with failure because we're quite a pair. But we have hope, we nourish our comfort. We neglect our fears and find in our relationships a life saver, a construct of security. This is all life is. Our monologue, the zeitgeist of a generation. She said she had always been active one way or another.

Tell me, is this everything you've become? Has your passion broken down into this?

You're running away from everyone and everything. Your lungs are filled with fear and dissatisfaction. You can't see past your pleasure. You can't see past yourself. You've spent too much time creating yourself just to throw it away, you're someone, your self importance is disgusting, you have a name and a history, you have a past which is constantly being regurgitated into tomorrow.

When you're alone and watch yourself, you start generating hope, for better times, for a better you, in time to come, but never now.

No, never now, and I should have known better than this.

This hope us bullshit, this life is bullshit, this heart is bullshit.
We're the pretty dirty generation.
We are the gutter phenomenon.
We are fucking dead.


Well, you better get a hell of a lot fucking better, or you are gonna feel a hell of a lot fucking worse.