Sirens coming from that far away factory.
They have started their production through these melancholic gaslights.
They produce everything… plastic bullets, soda cans, men, women…
and sometimes when they get too inspired they make gods.
You don’t need to learn socialism for realizing the qualities of their products…
just take them home and unzip them with your conscience,
you will see the reflections of their metallic discipline and the extension of their political correctness.
I have seen frames of great filmmakers…great artists…great poets…great boxers…and great men who have truth in their mediocrity,
and one thing has always been common in all of them…
the ruthlessness of their art,
the statements against any existential mockery…
I have one cigarette and a pack of warm matchsticks in my pocket.
One gone…now I am with some abundant specks of wonderings,
and I know just the right place to deploy them.
Today the smoggy melancholia will turn into a wild fire…
Burning down factories and burning down the castle of proletariats aren’t same…
But it’s something to start with.

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Photograph: Google.