Tomic Riter

Author: Tomic Riter

  • Rubbed my eyes and gave up.

    Staring at the ceiling. The fan whirling. Sunlight painting the curtains in red. Red blinking on the digital clock that hangs beside the toilet. Listening to an old voice. Listening to no voice. Listening. My fingers are all bent, like I am transforming into a new creature. But I am not. Looking at the cold red blanket covering my legs, my cock, my waist. Listening again to an old voice. Nothing painful, just the usual blabbering. Nothing serious. Nothing. Feeling my legs heavy. It’s because of the walk I took this morning. Listening to the pressure cooker whistle. Again. Again. And again. One more time. It keeps whistling. I lose track of count. Something so stubborn must be boiling inside. Time doesn’t exist when I write. Everything is here and forever. Nothing dies.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Falling into you.

    Yawning in my chair like a rattlesnake. I still haven’t gone for a walk. Maybe tomorrow morning. But that’s light years away. Dave Brubeck playing some cool jazz for me. It won’t rain tonight. I keep the television on mute. It’s always some bullshit playing. Same bullshit playing every day. Something like an engine running in the neighborhood. Always at this time of the night. What the hell. Somebody shoot that man and sell his liver. I feel like I haven’t slept in ages. But I slept only yesterday. Thinking of jumping into the bed and crawling on top of you and we kiss and hug and write stupid shit together for some time.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Walking out of there to anywhere.

    Report came in the morning. Tested negative. Finally! The virus in me is dead. Dead for now! Isolation ended after 15 days. But I managed to write quite a lot in those 15 days. Even got an e-book published. And wrote some short stories. And good music was always there to listen to.

    I walked out of my room and straight to the kitchen, made myself a large cup of black coffee, added a little honey (I hate sugar!), stirred. I walked to the balcony with my cup, pulled out a rotten chair, sat in it and looked around. Below, orange bright flowers were swaying in hot winds. Men on motorcycles coming back and leaving. Birds shooting through the space. The empty blue sky above, the concrete ground below and all the things living and dead in between. It felt good to step out of my room and have a look at all that happening around. A boy walking to somewhere. A car taking left turn. Another car in reverse gear. Song blaring on a water tanker. Streetlights beginning to glow white. Leaves falling down, getting blown away. Bird feathers flowing with the wind. By the time I finished my coffee, it had cooled down. It always cools down. I put down my cup and thought about taking a walk outside. I hadn’t take a proper walk in months.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Let’s laugh.

    Sitting on the commode. Thinking about the world. HA HA HA! Behind me, the exhaust fan buzzing. Dirt in my eyes, in my fingernails. I am fine, just hack off my head. Pull down my pants and beat me to death. Where’s my breakfast! Oh there it is! But where! Oh there but where but there. Everywhere. I am going to eat everything and sing a song ding dong come play along what the fuck is going on. My underwear is hanging on a hook like a bride without make up. BAAHHHH.

    Let us move on. Let us open all the water taps and drown the universe. Let us do something and laugh. Jesus Christ where is everybody! Oh they died long ago, got eaten by termites and bugs. A fine ending and an honourable one. Enough of this shit. Time to wipe my ass and brush my teeth and then stare at some wall all day.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Up and running and stopping.

    I eat some fruits and fall back in my chair. Outside its burning hot. Always burning hot. If you travel west from here for 6 hours straight, you will hit a desert and fall into the hot sands. I traveled once in that direction. It was shit. Too hot. I thought I could take it but it was too hot. 48 degrees celsius hot. Ass burning hot. Hotter than any hot. And the food was bullshit. At night the desert would fall so calm, the camels would disappear, outside was pleasantly cool but inside, where I was supposed to sleep, was always hot so hot and I could never fall asleep, not even for a minute. All that happened ages ago.

    Now I just sit in my chair and wait for the day when I can touch the sun again, and smell the flowers again and eat something and feel some taste. Now I just sit in my chair and drink water now and then and pop Vitamin pills and think of you and think of making love to you one more time.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Isolation days.

    Woke up late. Again. I am trying to reduce my sleeping hours. I have tried doing that a thousand times. But alcohol or tiredness or something else keeps coming in the way. Walked to the toilet, took a dump, headache followed and then I brushed my teeth. Checked my blood test report – deficiency of Vitamin D. Of course. I am allergic to the sun. Sun will kill me before alcohol or anything else does. Outside my window, the birds were talking. Somebody was sweeping the floor at the ground level. I was hanging on the 8th floor, but I could still hear the sweeping. Then, ambulance sirens. It must have been another victim of the virus. The sirens kept blazing for half an hour. I was empty stomach. I finished my tea. My twelth day in isolation. It would be pretty much like my eleventh day.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • In the other somewhere.

    in the other room

    in the other world

    in some other life

    they keep screaming at each other

    and they keep connecting and diconnecting

    phone calls and continue shouting

    and ranting bullshit

    as I wake up to a dull bright evening

    rolling in my bed alone

    thinking about kissing you

    and masturbating once more.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Look for yourself.

    split open the head of a real poet

    and you will find it full of

    scum cum dirt boredom

    lies smoke fire hell

    tears more cum

    more tears and blood

    days of fever and defeat

    madness utter madness

    and a lot more horrible things

    and he will die

    before he opens his mouth or

    before he begins to make any sense.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • You feed me.

    you feed me bullets

    you feed me uncooked butterflies

    you feed me drain water and lemon soda

    you feed me sunlight and ass

    you feed me crap books and boring satire

    you feed me boiling water and salt stones

    you feed me all the hells at once

    you feed me breasts and legs

    you feed me day and night

    horror and hatred and fright

    you feed me tears and kisses

    you feed me gasoline and nitrogen

    you feed me when no one else does

    you feed me anyways.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Dirty eyes.

    Early morning. Heartbroken. Defecating this loneliness and shit. Irritated by the tap water tapping on the bathroom floor. Now, what else is there to do. My blood will be taken away in a short time and it will get analysed and I will be declared a lunatic. Not a bad consequence of being alive all these years. Somebody’s footsteps outside the bathroom door. My neck is aching, like an elephant sat on it while I was asleep. Anyways, I am done here and same goes for my writing.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.