Pi

Here on the hot asphalt of the city, I boil in my turmoil. Those times when I’ve set myself on fire, and even now this soul is still in flames. Count zero, wondering the industrial wasteland daydreaming to reroute the connections to the motherboard of the soul, searching in craving to find elements to rebuild those burned circuits, damage so profound on so many different levels. I didn’t think I have any levels:) 

All of this creating peculiar dynamic in a spiral of life, an open system of clinical madness where everything is chaotically intermixed and it should stay that way, because this soul doesn’t need any peace at the moment, she needs… well, you know, dirty and messy;)