IRC-Galleria

The sense of cold on my forehead-
cold steal pushing against my thoughts makes me smile.
Only the skull in between stopping everything spreading around the white room.
If I'd pull the trigger, everything I know, knew and will know would be gone in a second.
If I'd pull the trigger there would only be left something dirty with a bad taste.

Yesterday I woke up without a head.

Sometimes I'm having a conversation with my finger.
Right when I'm ready to sleep it starts naging:

"You're anorexic, skinny piece of shit, who can't even sing.
Drown that unborn baby in your uterus and laugh!
You're a cancer, which has to be removed".
The same might go on and on the whole night.
So on a monday morning I cut my finger off.