I have been in a snooze fest, 

a poetry reading. 

Intimidating… pretentious with distant souls. 

One man making defeated rain 

and the people…the evils, 

getting thirsty for this cold fascism. 

No storms…no spine…no furious statements…

No hard and honest art. 

No humour. 

Besides what’s a gathering without strong whiskey and craft less kisses. 

Disturbingly sober existance has never been poetic and messy. 

I waited for the filth all through the evening, 

and I got that eventually from a fascinating cat under red neons…on an unapologetic street. 

The creative block was uprooted…

Again I started gaining the courage to dream some worst poems with freedom.

……………………………………………………………………..

Photograph: Google.