Hi, I'm a German artist and people call me Captain Crash because that fits me best. I like and do music, arts and writing, I am interested in pretty much everything except for math and economics, I am a loonatic for history, cultural studies and fencing... and I'm kinda weird in a healthy way. If you want to know more, just ask.

 

That dude is so awesome, read Cat’s Cradle in seminar, learned a whole lot more about nowadays society! Vonnegut rocks!

That dude is so awesome, read Cat’s Cradle in seminar, learned a whole lot more about nowadays society! Vonnegut rocks!

Hairmetal, let’s go psycho! Shot during a rehearsal at my place

Hairmetal, let’s go psycho! Shot during a rehearsal at my place

I wrote this some time ago when I was stuck in a phase of recovery from exhausting days being hung over and ignoring the wreckage that furocious outcomes of drinking cause to yourself and your surrounding world, now I am over that and back in good shape, but though maybe this gives some of you a little touch somehow.  Tell me what you think of it! =)

In  My Garden

I’ve been out in the suburbs lately,

Watched the swamp giving birth to dreams

Under  the cold dark sky.

Watched the dirt baptize souls in

The streets where the rats eat the

Puke of the dead that

Shoot themselves to brain damage in lightspeed,

Searching for thrills in the Nirvana of

Fastly wasted youth,

I’ve watched the Minstrel Show

Of life,

The announcer with his big

Feathered hat and his shiny Boots,

Screaming into the night

The words of The Lizard King:

“Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin!”

A short groan somewhere, then

Led silence again.

The sins come rushing at you like a freight train,

With sunken eyes, a crystalline rush,

Shimmering damnation, to ruin even the noblest of ideas

With howling laughter.

I watched the people,

Living there for a long time,

Disappear from the ones

They had loved for so long

And now come back to dig for luxury

And then be left burning on the street,

Not aware of danger in their  sleep.

With the rhythm of lust, that echoes through the air,

And makes your bones shiver,

Queen Mab spreads liquid amnesia

Over the face of the fallen clown

Who beat himself to death with

His own joke’s punchline,

While sinners turn into priests

Just to clean their hands

From the ashes and the flames

Grow higher

In their back as they turn

Around to flee in madness.

I’ve been out in the suburbs lately.

When I came back,

I noticed that I was

In my garden.

 

wild-lion:

Why do we call it truth or dare when we all know it’s really “who do you like” or “awkward sexual task”

(Source: meisterful)