I’m afraid of laud violins
God, who are you? Do you exist?
Dumb idiot you are nobody
Like me, the equivalent tells me that we are at the same level, the ground. Everybody is nothing so I’m you.
I am
I don’t exist
Invention of the man, despicable.
If you were my mother, would I still hate you?
Prayers are what I hear in A, Op 92.
Nuisance in the brain, your religion overflows sex and flagellation. Cynical.
I hate you to not hate others, your duty, you imbecile.