The businesscard

I have to admit that I sometimes struggled to restrain myself from splitting his head open with an axe.
His voice so irritating, his face so perfecttly inmaculate. I couldnt stand the sight of it.
One day... onde day...
One day I would make my wishes come true, see him sheding blood, his guts splattered on the floor, his eyes pleading, asking for forgiveness, for mercy, for a swift death.
But none of that would do, no mercy for the perfect, no acceptance for the weak, no tolerance for the hypocrites.
A perfect painting would I paint with his punny blood, pathetic fools work he would seem once his pure body lay sprain on the floor, his pulsing veins still fulfilling their unpaid duty, his heart pounding his life away, poor poor powerless being, left alone to die like a pooch on the street.
I ponder if he would look pretty on my pink wall if I were able to compose with his precious body a work of art.
Thoughts aside I cant help but feel belittled by his display of power, treating everybody else as no more but a slave, there are no coworkers, just slaves ranked higher in his personal power hierarchy.
The white of the paper is probably perfect, not a single stain.
The font carefully chosen.
The ink merged with the paper as if a wizards work had been involved, not a single speck of imperfection displayed.
And the texture of the paper... one could run his finger a thousand times and still get somewhat aroused by it.
And he would not say where he had gotten hold of such a masterpiece, that he would not tell to anyone as he said himself.
Oh, but he would...
He jocked about the value of it by proclaiming that even if his life were at stake, no one would find out where he gotten hold of it.
I would find out if what you say is true, I swore to myself I would.
Sooner or later, but i would...


The Legacy

On a tiny scrap of paper do I wish to writte what I leave in this world and once belonged to me.
To anyone who would read this:
To my youth I bequeath my early years, in which I enjoyed running through the fields and playing with all the woodland critters. There were no boundaries, no time limits, no responsabilities, just the fresh air and the joy you could muster up in any activity.
To the teenagers I bequeath the wisdom I didnt have at that time. Dont sweat the small stuff, dont listen to what others have to say, dont stay inside just because others dont like the way you are. Go out, meet people, enjoy, get drunk, get high, fall in love, get brokenhearted, start planning what you would like your future to be, do sports, make music, make a fool of yourself, get wiser, get stronger, question everything you have been told.
To the adults I bequeath what little time I have in this world. Dont work too hard, enjoy your free time, spend it the way you want, not the way others would want you to, go out, go wild. Love your friends and love your partner if you have one, spend time with them, think everything over, as nothing is as it may seem to be, dont judge others, dont let others judge you.
And last to the elderly I bequeath the energy they need to carry on, the company they long for in the long days they may spend alone in their homes, not wanting to be a burden to anyone but themselves.
The moments of joy in the park, the company of the birds on those sunny afternoons as they watch the rest of the world carry on without them.
And to them I also leave this note, so they may carry on what I started.

I know it may not seem much, but it is everything I have and surely do i hope it will help some of those who by any chance may stumble upon this, my last will and testament.

My time is up, I lived my life, I paid my dues, time after time I fell and then got up yet again with the same energy as all the times before.

And lastly I would like to leave a line to you, you know who you are. You accompanied me on this journey for quite some time, but sadly left before me on a warm spring morning, your kiss the only goodbye I ever got treasured as my most priced possesion.
Soon i hope to rejoin with you, all I ask of you is that you scold me for being late and then hold me tightly in your arms, so we may never again part ways.

To you, the reader of this, my last will, I give my gratitude for spending a moment of your busy life for the sake of reading such a meaningless scrap of paper you probably found by coincidece.
May the years be gentle with you...



The star lit sky gave me no rest on this night.
All the turmoil and caos around me promised many restless nights, if there
was ever to be a good night sleep for me.
How could so many believe in something so cruel, something so erratic, so
random, so unfair.
Was god real?
Doubt it...
And even if he were, i would not bow down to him even if he were to descend
from the heavens and in person asked me to join him.
Suffering, poverty, hunger, wars, terrorism...
If he sat and watched all that happen, he was not worth praising.
I could only fathom what frustration it was for some to hear others praising
god for a job well done by them.
If the operation goes as thank god.
If it didnt, the surgeons fault.
Such a double standard made me mad to the point of having to take a few
long breaths in order to repress the urge to hit something.
Miraculous recovery, its gods work, its a miracle, cant you see? What more
proof do you need?
I would definitely need some solid proof, not just the dreams and delusions
of mad men wanting the invisible dinosaur in the dark room to be real.
As real as the Alicorn sitting next to me while im writting this. Her mane
flowing with the wind, whispering sweet words into my ear, telling me
everything will turn out for the best.
A person that hears voices in his head: a madman.
A person that hears gods voice in his head: a saint, a chosen one, a holy
person and other names like that.
No different to me, those who listen to voices in their head are crazy.
Yeah... I know that Snowy... Yes, i am crazy myself, Snowy agrees.
I am mad myself, yet i have achieved the clarity and state of mind to
aknowledge that i didnt go crazy by myself, the world made me this way.
Or am i just pretending i am mad so that i may seem human?
I may just be wearing a mask, just like everybody else, so that i dont have to
deal with the idiocy and lunacy around me.

If i were to preach Snowy's religion to the others claiming that it is the true
one, i would end up locked up in sanitarium, where all the worlds preachers
should be.

See that, Snowy?
See the madnes?
See the sadness?
See the suffering?
The greed? The hate?
The egocentristic mindset of the society i have to live in?
Good thing you dont have to live here, i dont think you would make it through
the day.
Seeing all the enslaved animals, the poluted rivers, the cut down trees, all
that they call progress.
I sometimes wish i could leave almost everything behind and go live with
chinese monks or with a tribe, no matter the place, just live a simple life.
Almost all i would be glad to leave behind, yet my friends and my partner is
worth going through what seems like hell in order to keep them by my side.
As precious they are to me as a diamond.
You are precious too, Snowy, dont be jealous.

And now i rise, not as a hero, but as a villain to society, the villain this
society deserves, someone to take the blame, to make them open their
eyes to the real world they are living in.
No reward i expect, no sign of gratitude.
Stones, laughter, insults... that i expect.
I will welcome every single blow because i know that at the end of the day i
will be doing what is best for them.
For now i return to the shadows, not really knowing what lies ahead, but
knowing what i strive for.
My eyes will get acustomed to the darkness, my body to the beatings, my
hand to the grip of this pen, for i shall tell my journey to whomever would like
to read.

You will hear from me sooner than you think, untill that time comes, i bid