I wake up
and all I hear
is breaking glass.
I am
down, deep in
South, but
the shattering brings me
back to life.
it seems
the silence of the
barren lands isn’t
holy enough
but don’t be afraid,
I’ll pick up
my sinful pieces, then
help you
gather yours.
and parked her car
outside the city limits.
hung her muggy smile
along the dapper greens.
placed her bets on the naked
men shocked with the scenes.
sunk deep within the
core of the sidewalks.
while she swept your warmth
out with her crisp talks.
the winter came in today
but so did you.
I got paid and I was on my way,
169 miles southwest of where I lived,
few stops, smokes with strangers,
no shotgun, just a guitar on front seat,
sooner or later I knew you’d come,
burn my heart with your setting sun,
deflower me with leaves from your cherry tree,
oh how good it feels to be free.
they said I couldn’t be with ya,
you said you’d let me down,
3 cigarettes to ash my fear away,
one white, one green and one brown,
let me whisper in your ear,
and tell you how far from perfect you are my dear,
who cares when our hearts already sinned,
there’s no point in holding it in.
What I find amusing about Texas weather is that it changes a lot. I mean multiple times a day. I vaguely remember one day in August I checked the weather before going out, and it was a promising 85 with sun shining nice and high. An hour later I get out of this meeting, and it’s fucking pouring down. I’m damn sure they put out flash flood warning for that shit. You could have just floated in your boat and sung those rain songs on your way back home in that much water which collected there in last hour and only God knows how. That was my first encounter with this mood of nature. Everyone around me acted like it was normal.
Truth be told, it didn’t turn out to be a good day. I’m not a big fan of multiple showers a day. I barely get on with the required one. And that gray sky, it pisses me off. You can’t go out, and that alone restricts me to do stuff. Do stuff. Something. Anything. That’s what I do. All the time. And the rain basically told me, hey you, fuck off. And I’m just sitting there sipping my coffee listening to an intelligently picked mellow music playlist specially curated for rainy days in my room running out of ideas to DO stuff. I never liked being restricted.
I like my freedom. I like my options open most of the times. And I get it that you can’t always have whatever you wish for, but most of the times, I just need the freedom to think and act on. That’s pretty much what I desire from people around me. And from life overall. But rain devoid me of that freedom. Unless you give me a soccer ball and couple of humans. Then I’m the happiest kid in the world.
But this story here is far from being a happy story. It’s not going to be pretty, or colorful, or even have a happy ending after all the bullshit. There’s no doodling with crayons. Yeah, the movies lied to you. As of now, it doesn’t even have an ending. Because shit seems to keep going on and on. Forever and ever. And for as long as the shit keeps going on, there will be a writer bored out of his fucking mind writing about it.
Because somebody gotta entertain, ain’t that true? So be it. I’ll keep writing, and you keep reading.
This story is just a usual story. A regular story about guys and girls. A guy and a girl in particular. They could be anyone. Look around you. To your left. To your right. Now look in the mirror. That’s right. Stare right into those eyes who are staring back at you. They could be you too.
They could be anyone, and no one. And that was what’s so beautiful about them. They could pretend like they were the only two people that God ever intended to create on this planet we call home, but they could also pass each other on an empty street and not even look at the other, even though their bodies knew the other was just a breath away.
They were intense, yet hollow.
They were fire, yet a snow storm.
Burning up to their desires, arctic cold to their souls.
Honestly, they both were full of shit. That’s what I think about them. And about every other guy and girl who think they are the special one.
Sure. Why not?
And I’m Brad Pitt.
PS: How’s this for the beginning of a Novella people?
all the pretty smiles,
and heads held high
they were
rotting away
in the bright texan sun
drowning themselves
in the ocean
of endless
insecurities
they were made of
star dust
and magic
magic, that
sadly
was only
visible to my eyes
If only they had believed me.
i knew
there was something coming
it had to be
it was
meant to be
i could sense it
so did
everyone sitting around
the open place
charmed by
those beautiful instruments
surrounded
by people from
around the world
living life
on that wonderful
irish land.
or maybe not.
maybe they didn’t
sense that coming
but it was
all over the place
in every motivated breath
you take
in every puff of smoke
that intimidates you
right in your eyes
hits your
tipsy soul
and makes you wonder
what it will be like
when it hits you
nothing like
you’ve been having
since all night now.
maybe nobody imagined
or ever wondered
but i was waiting
among the cheering people
for that exact moment.
and then it came
everything
decided to stood by
glances were exchanged
i felt them
inhaling the deep breath
this was calm
before the storm
and then suddenly
the next moment
it was all
magic.
Austin feels a little bit like Aston Martin, which is the type of car James Bond would drive.
Keep it weird!
Life in a blog 