Slow summer day.
Heat. A thin cloud spreads before me.
A little darker,
But a lot hotter.

The air reeks of insanity.
The people look insane.
Some flies roam aimlessly.
It's hot. I'm sweating.

The fridge is buzzing.
I want to be there,
But I am here.
Slow summer day

I am afraid that when I go there,
There will become here.


The flies won't stop,
The fridge too.
I need a beer.