Hit

This is the longest I have written, 593 detached words!
I think It was the 2nd of April, sometime in the afternoon and I was playing a song and I just couldn’t stop writing.

A war within itself, and it will often make no sense.
But on that day this was as honest as I could be. So bear with me.

HIT
I

Let’s see

Thirty minutes

Sixty

It’s your job! She said.

Jobs made for sheep to bray overnight

Guns of piled up hay on the burnt ground of the metropolis pastures
Gargantuan

Orang-utans made to jump in repetitive motion

on and about matters that make no difference in the longer schemes

Of skimmed milk and wafer cones

Draped and fed into ever hungry and discontent bodies

 

 

Hit

Hit

Hit

 

The electric city hit

 

Tensed lines

She calls out my name in thin slippery voices of coagulated nightmarish ghouls (souls)

Grinded to break into useless money making  hours of the day spent fuller-ed

Ploughed land on star dust

We said we were star dust

Used to be

The universe does not conspire for us to fall asleep on benign bagels of fart smells
Garlic

Cheese on toast

I’ve stopped reading.

Get up and stop typing

 

Finishing myself up

Towards a walk that is closer to the finish line

Chimte’ on top of the clothes line

Gardens

The same garden you protected from the kids who plucked those red roses from the hedge closer to the  road

Gates without locks

Memories without scrapped metal sheets
Cans

Lots of cans

Can openers

Beer bottles open faster with the mouth

Garnished; Mouths

Mouths that open to

Start afresh

You’re always going round and round

Hitting no points at all.

Hit

 

Nobody told me ever, that this is how it could feel like to die slowly

With no disposition in angry delight

 

 

Flickered Places that have synchronicity

To this

This

Moment

in Free space

I may want to kiss you

But after a while, I wouldn’t mind just walking away

To feel the spin

To have it none, At all

Of ropes tied to my anchor

With a missing ship

 

Where did you go?

Mundane nights spend watering the plants in the dark terrace, dragons inside each room

No bleeding organs to die for

No worry about neglected death

Just

Fire

Spitting

In my mind

Willing every dimension of my being to stretch as far and wide

To meet each other

 

No, I stammered out words that were not fully formed

Now I speak with eloquence

But detached in life

……………………..

We shall not part

The incompetent

Manner in which I’d like to be a no one

None at all

……………………………..

 

Walking beside roads, with just a single thought

Not to finish or fret

Fretted are the tasks that I feel a slave to

I am free today while walking in a brown storm

Raging

Raged

Of colloquial cuboids

Shells and croquettes in brown sand on glass rods

Made of blue and green sallow seas

Of histories that prefer to civilize every unclothed man and women

Living in hearts and not your pocket

With numbers and all that bloats

Bloats your existence
Pariah

Of a kind that we shall never accept

Your thoughts are not conjoined twins

They even breathe a different air

Blind to each key each press

Deleting each letter one at a time

Every word you wrote deleted from this page

You would never re create

You coward!

 

Has no courage to leave

Always

Just

Wanting

want and want

What she can give and what she  will get

Get

Ugly words

Change the song

I need songs to feel kept in my mind

Derelict comforts of an alien kind

Ugh

I

Let’s see

Thirty minutes are over

Tending to sixty

I’ll never look into your eyes again.

 

 

 

I

let’s see

Its been too long

In this cold company

I’d like some warmth now.

Cups of mug

Mugs of coffee

Hit.

img_20170301_012848
By Sacra Luna

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