The morning starts with an erection of night traumas. Mad with the alcohol that decides the course of my action with a delusional site of breaking someone's nose, maybe killing that motherfucker with a staggering look that will keep him awake in the deepest of awakening. Then I run, I sprint the road that ends with a signal of danger that could have no home. I wake up again with the bottle that could have some answers to the reality that no one sees. I had a conversation with a girl last night, she was drunk, I was alright.

She asked me to fuck her. Drunk in the madness that could last the soreness of the hour, of the beseeched desperation of humanity that needs closeness from a complete stranger. But I didn't fuck her. She cursed and left, and I kept the lights on for almost the whole night, yet I couldn't see God. I was hoping to see him once, maybe a glimpse of light to have a wrestling fight, maybe duel with him till the bell of the 12 round doesn't stop. Maybe to give him the total despair of the mind of the collective individuals that have no one. To give people relief from the fatal flaw of their belief, to tear down the pyramids of people who control the mind with God. But he didn’t show up.

Such weakling, I thought, and I went back to my work with a knife in my back pocket. A psychopath, a defensive defective animal who has nothing to lose. I walked the road with authority, with power that holds no boundaries. 'It's my World '. I was waiting to bump shoulders with somebody to give him a taste of animosity, to hold no boundaries of a collective mind that could never be as someone as I am.

But, as I walked down the alley of a disturbing atmosphere, I could sense I am not alone. Everybody walked the way I walked. Each had this red eye of total destruction, if disturbed they have nothing to lose to end the sight of colors that I possess. I got scared. These minds hold the eyes of years and years of suffering to walk the road fully controlling their urge to kill somebody. I looked at somebody who was coming at me. He had a knife in his right hand which has a tattoo of a man, he was the person sent by God, I ran.

I went back, shut the doors, closed the windows, hatched the locks, broke my hand with a hammer to feel again, and waited for the day to end, to be all right. To fix the world again, to fix it's working to my liking so that I could have a good night's sleep. To fix the government to pour some extra money Into our feet, to fix you again in a way that I could fix myself. And maybe ultimately fix God, or the person's sent by God. Total felony hiding in the name of justice.

I called my mom, I don't know why, she didn't pick up...