Some inner demons are scratching and burning, and telling me it's not me, it's the air that I breathe.

Or more specifically- how can my soul stay pure and not rot, when all the walls are rotting.
Landlord would kill me if I tore them down. And getting another apartment for this price? Impossible.
Do our laws say anything against it? nope!

My lungs are protesting against this mold infested studio flat, that can't be dried, no mater how many fans we put in.
It just keeps eating me from the inside.
This beautiful disgrace of what was once a part of a bigger space, for richer folks, cut off so I would ave a place to exist.
Not much use of me though.

Gimme some air.
Anyone wants to scrub down the walls, and heat this shithole until it is crumblin' dry, like those cupcakes they sell at the corner shop?
Yeah. That's what i thought.

All my women have disappeared, and all my male friends are busy with their families or getting more money so they could have families, because they are too empty or/and ugly to get a wife, by being who they are. WHat am I complaining about again. I didn't have any friends in the first place.

Don't fall in love, idiot.
My mantra for years.
If forgotten can cause irreversible damage.

Shalom motherfuckers