[this is the product of pre-traumatic stress, read at your own risk]
[From the makers of ‘pre-death postmortem’ we bring you ‘Unidentified Sleeping Object’!]
The terror.
At last.
It’s sinking in.
Tomorrow. I’ve heard tomorrow never comes. I hope i’ve heard right.
Right? Or left?
This is not the time for political mumbo jumbo.
Go back to your bed; it’s not your fault that you’re a moron.
Fuck you!
I’ve lost it.
Where were we?
Right or Left?
Oh right!
No, actually wrong.
Hope i’ve heard wrong.
Right! Thanks for the cue.
Tomorrow.
A new day.
A new boy.
A newborn.
Tomorrow.
An old clock.
An old aspiration.
An old pain.
Tomorrow.
The same old wine in the same new synthetic-unbreakable bottle.
Stop fake poetry.
STOP.
...
...
...
Ok start.
Good.
Tomorrow.
Stop talking shit.
Yesterday
No yesterday, no day before yesterday.
Today?
You crazy?
Say something which Public love to sympathise.
Say something which public love to idolise.
Say something which public love to identify with.
Like?
Truth.
Ok, got it.
Tomorrow.
Great. Now you’re getting it.
That’s the word i’ve been looking for.
Boy, one day you’ll grow to become a great ‘came 2nd in the race’
Anyway.
Thanks.
What was the word again?
Eat shit!!!
[And he spits out in rage]
gosh....you were right when u said this is your most eccentric writing!
ReplyDeletebut why the hell does it make perfect sense to me ?
Khoob bhaalo!
ReplyDeleteLord Buddha bole gechen, every day you live, you live as a new man, with yesterday behind you.
Amar bloge 'Here you are. Standing in front of me' ta porte parish...