warbunny.de

Feelin’
Feelin’ sad
Or bein’ happy
Neither, nor.
None of all.
But…
Uh, but what? But anything?
Nope, neither that. Nor “nothing”.
What’s da sense of this text?
Uh, is there a sense?
No,
I don’t think so.
Dunno, what I’m writin’ for.
But… well, but my feelin’ here, down in my stomach
Yeah, feeling like…
Like there should be somebody writin’ this.
Exactly this.
Nah, not somebody.
Me. I should write this.
Well.
Go on writing senseless things, stupid as you are. You always do.
Go on, Mike, write, write as you never stopped it before.
Write as fast as you can.
Then sit back for half an minute. Relax. Chill down.
Readin’ a few sentences again
And then write again.
Still dunno what THIS text is about. Will neva know.
Neva.
Uh, but (again: “uh” and “but” – am I stupid?)
Well.
What am I writing for?
Who for?
There will be about six to ten persons who will ever read
What I wrote
So why write?
Why simply not stop?
Uh
Maybe because I need it.
I can’t live without tellin’ my situation. The situation in my stomach.
When I’m sad, stories like “A Sad Story” start existing in this world.
When I’m happy, ones like da “Thoughts of A Tree”.
When I’m feelin’ peaceful – thanxx, Seb – I create stuff like “Silence’s Music”…
Well… and when I dunno what I’m feelin’ –
When I just feel strange…
Then there come stories like this one.
Just tell me why I’m writin’ English.
Uh, dunno.
But it’s okay.
I hope so, at least.
…
So I sit here, writin’ English trash…
And wasting a million people’s time, because after I died, all my stories will be such stupid things that everybody has to read. Culture of the world. Always like that. After the dead, all the f****n’ good things of an author get so damn popular.
Whoa.
Isn’t that the sense of it all?
The world just doesn’t want to let the damn good authors and painters know how good they are. Were, to better say. They were good. Now they’re just dead.
Poor ones. Like me, I hope.
Just the imagination – I’ve got too much of it, though – ‘bout my stories being so popular that at least a thousand people read this. And think it good, sure.
Yeah, at least this would be great.
So now.
There you go. You see, I wrote now more then about one and a half pages.
And no sense.
No sense in this text.
Now you know how I’m thinking. Always keep on…
Letting your thoughts flow.
Let them flow wherever they wanna go. Then you write this at an text. Just as me here.

Uh… but… a text without sense…
Why read it?
Why do you read it now? …

Hehe. “Dunno”

Michael Bahner

Okkultus