Can’t believe the world’s still bothering to exist. I mean, really – why? Doesn’t it know? It’s all past its self-by date. All of it. And everything. All of this. It’s missed the perfect moment to … end.
I mean the way it all continues is just … tasteless. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Being isn’t what’s supposed to be. What it was, in the good old days, eh Helmut?
Work in Progress 