The world plants a desire, and tells me I must douse its fire. But this morning I toasted some bread and read a Japanese poem about geese, and I realised that all the time I lease to smartphones and buying things could be simply spent with a coffee, reading a text that makes my bleeding heart sing.
Because my sugar levels dropping, mind foggy, dopamine high crashing; because legs aching; I can’t unknot the multi-coloured tangles this evening; because yesterday; because I said yes; because. Because you never said in so many words.
You say there is cloud cover with chance of rain, but you know there will be rain because you have a headache. You can tell but you can’t say.
Submission for the theme 'distance' for The Menteur Anthology
Coffee blotched wool woven seats Impassive solidarity on your *** Dank rapidness Screeching scream let loose as we transend Through bleak blackness Thoughts stream "Wisdom teeth dont make you any brighter" "But Starbucks coffee makes my stomach..." ...turn left Stale air in my every crevasse The doors to the train open Crowded shuffles between aged avacado quiescent places Those weary may rest on, float on Shallow jolted perfume As cucumber melon intoxication erupts On undetermined destinations Aspiring poets gaze Out into the open world of Twinkling city stars On curved paths On dipped forks in the road "All passengers must exit" Crowded shuffles between aged avacado quiescent places Those weary return home
You always said you believed in people, even though they didn't always had faith in you.
You also said that your brain does not believe in a primordial God but that your heart does. It was always a matter of proximity, with the brain being closer to the mouth and pushing all of its messages.. the right messages.
You said that you weren't convinced by the making of the cross sign because it started with the brain and ended with the heart - people always remember the last part and never the beginning you said.
But I knew you had it in you - the words in the prayers you mumbled on the metro, hoping that no suicide bomber went in the same direction, in that moment, helped you have a pleasant journey. Yeah, I heard you. It convinced me to not push the button.
the words came from the heart and, by the time you got to the end of it, your brain would have no other choice but to surrender.
Sometimes I Shazam random songs. I don't even have to like'em or anything.. I just do it. Press the big blue button and wait for it to do its job. I'm always sad when it says it's sorry and returns no result. "They didn't quite catch that. Try again". Who does?
Sometimes I Shazam random noises on the metro, Hoping it will pick up the coolest soundtrack of a movie I'm in, Just before the credits, When everything goes dark - but not because of a random suicide bomber that hates life and wants revenge or something. It returns no results and the TV suddenly goes louder in my head and there are 23 victims and we're all posting kittens on Facebook to show that we're not afraid.
Sometimes I Shazam my parents voices while they're telling me how their day went and I discover really cool indie artists that make me listen to their work in a loop.
Once, I Shazamed your heartbeat while you were sleeping. It returned my name. Can't remember the album, but it had a nice cover photo.
I never Shazamed my own voice, nor my heartbeat. I'm too afraid it'll show nothing worth listening to.
I see great ***** every day in the subway and, suddenly, my favorite Hitchcock movie changes from Rear Window to Vertigo. The movement of the train calms me down and I fall asleep quickly, dreaming that I'm in Kerouac's car, quietly hitting the road like ******* hit his canvas.
I see great ******* every day on the bus that takes me home, but not one single ***** for me to lay my ear on. The dream comes to a crossroad where me and Jack have to part ways. He'll go down in history like a great writer and I'll quietly go down on memory lane in oblivion.
Memory disappointed me and left a bad taste in my mouth - literary ******* ain't what it used to be.
All of these brave men and women are in a hurry. They’re anxious to get home and ******* before their significant others arrive, ready for a home sweet home experience, with fine wine and cheesy shows on the tube.
Life simply goes on in cycles, like a loop video on the metro CCTV. No heart attack spikes, no heavy breathing, no chance for a near death experience.
We are all obedient mother/father *******, waiting for the wind to put down the big old tree in front of our house, so we can have a hot topic on our Facebook walls.
Trying to be different, mostly in a verbal manner, is like performing **** with a ***** dolphin, in front of a tank full of happy sharks.
We’re all in a hurry, tryin’ to get back home and ******* good before the significant part of our life begins.