Panic!

Let me explain you my dear.
Language is a very subtle thing.
Words do not speak,
they lack of all meaning.
It is people who give them meaning based on their knowledge and beliefes. Having said this.
I love you.
I hate you.
I like you.
I am trapped in myself for all my life.
No matter how much I want to escape.
My mind is what makes me, me
but the price is of course,
Eternal Solitude.
For being myself.
That's why I'll always be alone.
In order to retain my individual identity,
I must be alone.
No matter how close,
I will never get to anyone.
Like a mirror where the reflected image and the original never touch.
That's why I gave up.

Life consist in being able to say "I am myself" honestly.

Oh bells calling for the end.
Ring! Alice I call your name from the cave I'm trapped in.
Twisted pain inflicts wounds in my skin,
I bleed, I bleed,
therefore I'm human.
I bleed love.
I'm losing it, that thing I've studying,
the reason I became THE HERMIT.
Now that I don't have that precious thing to study,
I can't be THE HERMIT,
careful said WeiB,
"You define your identity over your solitude"
Scwarze however encouraged,
"Sell your soul if needed, but get it, at any cost.GET IT"
Later that life I would find Alice.
My muse name is Alice.
Born from Schwarze and WeiB,
Alice is the inhabitant of the iron maiden.
I would've continued existing without realising my mistake.
I'm not alone.
But apparently that's what I wish for.

This masks grip tightengs with time,
each second breathing is becoming hard.
Each second I yearn for her to come.
I eagerly hold onto life,
while embracing death at the same time.
Doublethink.

Sweet delussions,
that keep me within the realm of reality.

Infection,
Mutation,
Putrefaction,
Outbreak,
Infection,
Mutation,
Putrefaction,
...smell.
Smell of youth,
Smell of lust, greed, parsimony.
I still don't understand it.
Why can't I analize it.

Because I know it,
the essence of the human soul.
It's that I lacked,
that I still lack.
I'm only a machine,
A souless puppet.
Slave of my hunger,
Love,
Friendship,
I've yet to gather data on those.
eRror.

Hunger of power,
created by hate.
Hunger of violence,
created by hate.
Hate.
Is it the lack of love?

The taste of blood,
The moonlight.
The moonlight intoxicates me,
it spreads trough my throat,
it covers my whole being.
As if trying to take over