Blood matter.

Nothing happened today. Not even a single damn thing. Nothing at all except chasing pointless targets. The targets set by the capitalists. The targets robbing us of of our lives and our time. The targets not letting us sleep. I do not even remember if I masturbated today. Pathetic. Sometimes, life can really kill you. Life and all this living. Living like I am these days. No day or night. Only it’s just too windy all the time, and sometimes it rains and then it gets really cold. Not a bird seen in the morning. No sunsets. No sunrises. No road drives. No beaches or mountains. Just walking to my desk and then at night, walking back home. I am just trying to write something everyday. It might be complete bullshit but then who cares. Nobody reads anyways. Even if somebody does, he might decide to stop reading in no time. My words and my sentences won’t offer any comfort to them. Such are my words and my sentences. My own veins have turned blue writing them. My lips have dried, my wrists have broken. My wounds are healing and soon, new ones will find their way to me. I am never not scarred. Something always comes running after me to hack off my head. I am always in a fight although not each one gets bloody. But each one is no less real. The fight. All fights. The fight to live like I want to live. The only true fight there is. The only revolution that matters to me. My own personal revolution – to go against everybody and come out winning. They won’t acknowledge my win or even my fight or even that I ever fought when within me, I have been fighting each second of my life. I do not want this fight to end up bloody. The sight of blood at the scene would be of no consequence. The blood will dry and it will lose its pigment and even that will be of no consequence. The blood will be gone, hidden below their trampling footsteps and the noise of everyday death. But my fight will keep on in one way or another.

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