“I want to write love my friends not about love, but love. People are crying, can’t you guys hear that, how can you sleep with that fucking useless brain and that goddamn heart” 

His words were somehow floating above all the gray smokes of our cigarettes. 

We liked him just the perfect amount. 

Not much not less.

” liberals, I want liberals.” He once screamed towards this man on the side of the road  who was just stitching a torn shoe.

Being a bibliophile he was, he knew all the big words. We managed to rank ourselves as his best puppets. 

And, man he could fuck the girls!

“Don’t take on the establishment kid, you will regret it later.” His clean shaven rich father used to tell him all the time. 

Our place was too black for someone a bloody red like him. 

So one day just like that he vanished with a girl from that whorehouse. Leaving behind his big fat diary with all those poems, short stories and slogans. 

People said he had gone to West, I knew it was East. 

Frankly speaking I never realized his words. I could wipe off my ass with those pages.

But somehow I managed to retain his diary over the years of my madness

The last page of it is getting finished so I have to contain myself with my useless thoughts. 

Just one thing, that asshole tried or still trying.But I am on the verge of forgetting his name. 

 

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