(Picture by me)
This world of ours is an ecosystem of pain
Where the threads are held together with the glue of masqueraded dreams
So everyone is connected to everything and everything to everyone
It works like a net
Like the scattered pink silhouettes of nerves in the eyes, swollen when it’s a flood of tears,
occasionally!
So there are the parasites, who are they? Where are they? How do they look?
Nobody knows.
But they are everywhere, within and without.
There are carnivores too
The satanic big men of the city
With bloodstained smiles and cracked arrogance ruling and roaming around
In the households, on the roads, in the shops, at stations, at hospitals, in mosques, in parliaments, in oval offices and in the toilets too, especially public toilets.
There are omnivores too
The majority of the city’s population of those under middle class masses who run like ants over the entire geography of it
They wear dreams on their sleeves and drench themselves in sheer bitterness every morning before leaving for work
Their skins are hard, almost shelled, and they are afraid and confused and paralyzed and stubborn and cruel and childish…
Occasionally!
We have symbiosis too and dependencies and non-dependencies,
relationships form and deform and reform like the cackles of an infant – continues on and on and on
So the factory works on
Successfully, reliably and above all “naturally”
We wanted to write about the half unfinished cup of coffee on the center table
We could not.
Instead
We stuffed our necks with heaps of garbage and walked in the streets of despair like travelers who are pick-pocketed.
We limb and then we straighten up
Like the iron rod of the flagpole on days of independence for countries
In the mesmerizing green of the lodges of establishments
So now we pick up torn out pages from the corners of these streets
And shit on them
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