Friday morning
Already ironic.
Casually sitting in a taxi cuz today my history thesis is happening.
A kid was hit on the crossing, laying there with the only three people around who called the ambulance.
A few meters on the other side of the road,
The side the kid wanted to get to,
A man casually arranging tables in the betting house.
Watching the desperation in my eyes as I watch the scene before me.
Now is stuck in meaninglessness.
I heard later that day that the kid lives and hopefully so he won't stop.
So now I'm stuck in pink doored bathrooms and the road the trams pass by.
Thinking how desperation is hope because fear is motivation and anger's the fuel.
How much of a human I am, thinking the sole  existence of life is somewhat philosophical.
Cuz that kid on the street and that bathroom I was in, are both poetry.
And I'm nothing but an observer.
Observing,
Things before others realise.
And still what value has this moment in time?
Almost 100km per hour, I could die right?
I could die by my own means so of course 100km is just a simple factor.
I wanna die by my own means.
No car hitting me, no sudden disease.
I want the odds that are against me to at least respect my timing.
Though it's selfish.
I've been wanting to write about that kid for a while, just couldn't get myself to.
Like a letter to myself I'd never wanna send.
Naturally running out of fuel, life itself slips away in front of my eye.
So in the most mundane mindset, I cannot stop it.
Ever