I am going through a road  with cactuses by it’s side. 

I have enough petrol to go beyond the disappeared city. 

My education says me to go right at that morbid blast, 

but I am choosing to burn out on the road itself. 

My blue whore is besides me, 

sitting and singing 

‘ where have you been my blue eyed son’, 

I like the melody in her voice…

she has demolished me with those notes. 

So many ages have passed through this cursed road, 

I am no new asshole in the block. 

Homeless people with shredded but blazing soul have waters in their eyes, 

that’s the highest kind of alcohol you will ever get, 

I am drunk in that, I am useless in that…

Holding my hairs I am going to be there eventually, 

but what about these baked and bombed cities I am passing through…

Will they just pass through or make patches on my skin?

……………………………………………………………………

Photograph: Google.