Outside, a crow singing
in lord’s praise
while I finish my glass o’beer
it’s twice sunny today
and the roads are on fire
and so are all the vehicles
I lie down in my bed
with a ceiling fan right through
my stomach
and I switch it on full speed
because if that doesn’t bring me some cool
then nothing else will.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
Something from last night has my stomach crying. Must be the alcohol. Must be the bad food. Could be anything. Even the wind here can give me headache. I try to leave the bed but I keep failing. What’s the joy in lying down. What’s the joy in getting up. Hunger keeps a man going. Nothing else. I am just not hungry. A mild headache does make want to get up. I am having one such headache right now. The fridge is running fine, only I got nothing to keep inside it. I can feel the fierce summer returning. My lips are dry and skin smooth as a sandpaper. I sit for a while and allow my head to fall in its place. It takes another twenty minutes for that.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
only losers come to bars on thursdays
losers we
no waiting for friday night
or saturday evening
I occupy my favorite cabin
cabin number 26
and order a frozen bottle
of Budweiser Magnum
What a liquid!
What a mood I am in!
volcanic,
close to eruption
outside the cabin, men sitting
on chairs and shouting
at the television that is turned off
LOSERS
WE
each one of us sitting here
right now,
trying to calm down
or gear up and burst.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
idly rotating along with everything
how beautiful – moon rising
nobody else watching
nights like these won’t be coming
from deep red to orange
to the final golden
the sound of water dripping from a pipe
cool breeze accompanying
I imagine your body over mine,
crawling.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
Not even an hour passed since I fell in bed. Unbelievable! I woke up too early. But it was evening outside. It won’t be less a couple of hours before I started feeling the need to leave my home and go out to somewhere; to where, I couldn’t know. That would have killed the fun. In fact, why know anything beforehand? No fun in knowing. Let there be an accident or something at some random time. Let me break down at some odd hour. I would have understood that easily, I would have even laughed at it but knowing something beforehand would instantly turn me off. I never believed in fate. I didn’t believe in anything. That was me, trying to kill choices. That evening or whatever that was, I got up from bed, took a leak, and remembered the time when I was smoking cigarettes. That is not to say that I had given up smoking. I give up nothing. Only I didn’t feel the need to smoke. But that evening, while taking a leak, I must have felt the need of something terrible happening, otherwise the thought of smoking a cigarette wouldn’t have crossed my mind. I walked back to my bed, opened the window, looked at my garden. How beautiful it was, how dry, deteriorating. I was wearing nothing, didn’t feel the need to wear anything, and I was typing words after words and that felt good.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
I had a dream. Well, fuck it. It’s been a long time. I have been drunk so much since then. One bottle after another. One night after another. One song and then another. Nothing ends. Everything is on repeat. The food, the people, the bars, the cities, the roads, the beer cans. Everything. How would you like a table next to mine? You might like it. But were you here, you wouldn’t have a choice but to hate it. It’s like that. Life without choice. Zero from birth to death, from death to rebirth, from rebirth to another cycle of bondage and torment. How would you like that? You wouldn’t, I guess. It’s like that. You liking this and disliking that and in the end, you die. I am dead anyways and still drunk.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
From my red room. Dirty as hell and unattended. The only light before my midnight. The only songful haven in this goddamn graveyard where not a grass grows. This is my red room and I come alive here and fall dead here almost every day. My disgraceful coffin inside which I lie and I lust for you and twist and turn in your absence. You light me on fire and run away to your video conference or an interview. I wait for you and your errands to end. I wait for you. I kiss you a million times inside my head. I kiss you here and then I kiss you there and in no time, I am kissing you everywhere. My red room keeps glowing brighter. It is open for you all days of the year, all hours of the day, all years of my life.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
It’s the same road, only more damaged. I am heading on the same route and coming back via the same route. It’s the same dust rising and settling down and, the next morning, rising again. It’s the same people greeting me in the noon, the same tea in the evening, the same foolishness all day. The same men occupying the same chairs, breaking the same desks, laughing at the same jokes. The same people asking for silly favours, the same people farting egos, the same people screaming for nothing worthwhile. The same sky with nothing but clouds and a handful of rain. All the seven hundred of my life and I cannot differentiate any one from any other.
You must be logged in to post a comment.