the slowest, heaviest and the
lightest thing the artist carries
is a bag of bones and meat

slouching on the sofa
eyelids as heavy as
boulders

the artist tries to stay awake
as his brain fries for a little
pinch of creativity

the urban pollution embodies
the scene, his inspiration,
and the artist is missing:
gone along with the radio waves

a mild, slow torture is upon
him, he disregards this,
he smokes a cigarette
his eyes lay lifeless
through the night,
as cars, bikes
and garbage trucks fills
his mind

midnight calls him for sleep,
before it,
he remembers some
beautiful things in his
past life and never he
make it past through a single one
on the back of his head

he doesn't want any of it
and he is unconsciously
made to think that way,

he has given all of it away
to the void, doesn't remember
much about everything,
year by year and
what remains is
a shadow of him,
the world was never easy
on him

and the world
always criticized him
with one word:
'pretentious'

because all the world's
intelligence and cunningness
lies solely from that
particular word

with him as a witness
from this comedic
tragedy.