Time Malfunction

I wrote my past on a piece of paper and set it on fire with the touch of my tongue. The ashes of this ruin, I smeared all over
my solvent skin. (One tantric back in my village said this brings luck!) Painted in hues of a burnt out life, I stepped into a chaos of an urban sorts. Walled in a carnival of mundane delight, I stalled my fate with days of tasteless food and nights of meaningless fuck. Now no medication, no meditation can scrub the smears off. I let my past live in me; I live now in my past. The city lights reflect brightly on eyes with no depth of their own, while humdrum hallucinogens take my mind off my muck. And I wait in the shadows of aluminum trees and copper waters, for the smallest sights and sounds and smells that hint of a tomorrow where i can get my head shaved off of all the rotten hope that got tangled in my hair and stuck there all these years.


  1. You know those moments when you’re walking in the sweet warmth of a summer day, and the breeze whispers good things? When there is a deliciousness in the sensation of something heard, seen, tasted, touched, or read? That is your post. Wonderful!


    Liked by 1 person

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