hope.

the heat unbearable
and the throat
dry like
my mind
the sun
burning through
my soul
and
life evaporating
slowly

then the clouds arrive
and the skies go
dark
with the wind
that heals
your burn
with that first drop
of rain
falling down
I realise
the world
with all its
madness and sick shit
is still capable

capable of
surprises that
lull
your soul

not better.

when things go
south
when life
is fucked up
when
I’m down
when it’s grey

I have people around
telling me
it’s okay
things are gonna
get better
’cause
humans are drawn to
sadness
sorrow
melancholy
pain
our common
turn on
the old light
that’s flickering
and the moths flocking around

and when they say
things are gonna get better
I say
never mind
I like it this way
no I’m not
a masochist
or some pain loving bastard
happiness
it drives the people
away

it’s sadness
that makes me
feel better

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/05/06/better/

nothing.

there are days when I have to write nothing special about those days they are usually mundane days. I’ll be on my way to college or having my lunch or talking to someone or lying down doing nothing and then all of a sudden I grow heavy my face about to burst my belly bladder and chest full of something that feels liquid like a balloon filled with water and I start sweating and gasping for air eyes starts seeing things that aren’t there and my mind goes blank. no one around me notices a thing they don’t understand they don’t see anything different it feels normal, someone standing in the beach looking at the sea it looks beautiful the waves full of life the orange sun perfect but out of her sight is a man flapping his hands and legs gulping down salty sea water praying for help drowning in the same beautiful sea. I take out my phone to type something but NOTHING arrives. you have a bad cold and you want to sneeze but you can’t, does it make sense now? I have a better example which involves shit and fart but then I’ve talked about them a lot recently I feel like I’m full of shit. coming back I’m so full but I don’t write anything all those crazy poetic thoughts that usually crowd my mind seem to have disappeared trying to find something to write about searching desperately its tiring so I piss on grammar and fuck art and start typing letting the words find me

soul reaper.

with every
reason
the poem loses
a part
of its
soul

with every
rhyme
the poem
dies
a little

a poem born in the
mind
heart
and
the gut
is
full of
soul

purer than
the burning
passion
in his eyes
and
the heat
between
her legs

truer than
the tears
that
well up
when you’re
kicked in the
balls

it is then
strangled
with
meanings
purpose
words
till it
is nothing
but a beautiful
corpse

and
here I am
the soul reaper
waiting
writing

watching
a poem
die

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.

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