burn.

it’s just another day. I wake up with a dry throat and throbbing head, pull together my sore back hands legs dick and my glasses, move towards the kitchen,get a glass of water, gulp it down. the fucking big red ball out there isnt showing any mercy I can sense the heat melting down from the sky at 7 am. it is going to be a tough day. I sit down to take a shit but my asshole is burning with every dropping. I get out, drink a bottle of water and calm it down. it feels good. give myself a good bath and throw in some food for my grumbling belly. have to go to college. classroom. hell. hell no, hell should be interesting. I sit in the classroom, bright and hot, with nine fans rotating and no wind. it stinks of human sweat, 60 humans to be exact maybe more. it is loud, people opening and closing their mouths all around and the room gets stuffy with words. more room for words and less room for me. I can see words dangling in the heavy hot gusts of wind hitting against the walls missing the open windows just like a stupid fly caught inside a car. my shirt is stuck to my body and I sniff my armpits when no one notices. I don’t stink. not yet. my head is throbbing and I want to sleep, but it is difficult to sleep when you are surrounded by people who can’t shut up and the desks aren’t that comfortable. I let my head fall down on my arms drifting into a sleep, rough ride. I’m up with a numb arm that is paining my head throbbing and I still want to sleep. it is afternoon and the heat is unbearable. the room gets brighter. the sun and the boredom slowly burning my soul(soul sounds fancier than mind heart or skin) I can smell it, it smells like your hair caught fire grey smoke rising up. I try reading words floating around enter your ears and reach the eyes banging against them from the inside, the eyes vibrating and drumming I go blind and close the book. its easy to hate people, all it takes is a burning sun and nothing to do, you see someone smiling and you will hate their guts. it’s surprising to see people happy and smiling in this room, room that feels like the crack between an obese guy’s fat ass cheeks taking a steam bath, humid as fuck. I drink water whenever I get my hands on a bottle and that’s not often. time seems to have died from a heatstroke. I remember my physics teacher from school, a nice old glutton with bad breath telling me about how time flies faster during happy moments or when you are doing something you like special theory of relativity or something and focus on happy stuff, giggle laugh and pretend to be interested in what people are saying. fuck. it doesn’t work and this little experiment hurts my already agonised head. its evening, but the sun is still bright. we get in the car and get the fuck out of college. my head hurts because of the heat but I need dark bitter coffee that is hot. I have two of them the taste that it leaves in my mouth turns shitty after five minutes but I’m too tired to do anything about it. I reach home strip down to my boxers turn on the tap the water is hot I wash my face anyway take a leak, warm yellow piss it burns my dick-head. I turn on the grunting fan and sit on the bed I’m drenched sweat trickling down my forehead neck chest armpits groin and everywhere possible. I lie down take off my glasses and wait for sleep. wait. wait. sleep isn’t coming. my mind comes up with the shittiest thoughts. college. getting a job. hot oily food. it is irritating/frustrating/annoying/pissing off. I scratch my buttocks switch on my phone and start typing this shit, trying to empty my mind, clearing out the words. it doesn’t help, my head still hurts and the weather is still hot.

and I feel like I’m trying to imitate Bukowski it doesn’t feel so good.

goodnight Goa.

the moon
floating
up high
and the tides
pretty rough

blinding
neon lights
and LOUD
techno music
getting
louder
by the minute

the beach
full of
souls
crawling out
in the darkness
out in the
night
to feel
alive

washing down
their routine jobs
lousy friends
cheap furniture
with
alcohol

people
searching
for meaning
shaping their
own
realities
with crystal and
weed

smoking
gulping
snorting
consuming pleasure

the bars
selling
happiness
the high
in trance
the drunk
laughing
the sober
hungry for
flesh

bodies
swaying
to the music
the air thick
with
dopamine

there is a guy
sitting
staring
at the sea
like it is
all
that matters

I do the same
it feels
beautiful
for a few minutes
women
drenched in
sand
and water
are more beautiful

I laugh
with
the crowd
dance with them
but I can
never
be them

I am just
tired
and want
some sleep
they want
more

their
madness
is not
mine

heal.

ever noticed
a cut
or a
scrape
heal?
often
on the knees

give the
wound
time and
in a day or two
a black crust
forms
over it
and starts
to itch
like crazy

I start
scratching
around the wound
and
it feels so good
I have
peeled off
half the scab
and it starts
bleeding
again

people
in the world
most of them
want to be
healed
or to
heal

healing with
time
love
whiskey
weed
poetry

and there
are a few
who just
want to
scratch their
wounds

to be left
alone
with their
pain

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/04/08/heal/

outlier.

somewhere
within the
fixed concept
of I
wanders
a guy

a ghost
that you think
is lurking
in the
dark

a guy
with grand notions
of life
that make
my insides revolt
a romantic
to whom
the world
with all its
sickness and shit
is still a
beautiful place

his laughs
hurt my ears
and
his tears
soak my
bones

once in a while
we bump
into
each other
and I never
have anything
to say

I stand there
thinking
he knows me
too much
to be
a part of
me

he just smiles
at me
and walks away
humming
a random tune
at times

a deep urge
overcomes
me to reach out
to him
and
make him
real

but
I realise
that his existence
would negate
mine

he is
the stranger
you seek
in a familiar
crowd

an outlier
within

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/outlier/

champions.

I see them
everyday
in the
TV
papers
wherever I go
looking at
me
with their kind
loving eyes

people
out to
save the world
the humans
the tree outside my house
the puppies
and some even
the souls

their soft
kind voices
preaching
praying
and pleading
me to do
my part

scavengers
looking for
anything
that is
damaged

I see them
everyday
and they all
look
the same

Heroes
Crusaders
Champions

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/champion/