Send me a bottle here, a cheap one.
It’s the month end…I can’t have smooth scotch on the rocks now…
Send me a cheap little bottle of whiskey.
Scarecrows outside bore me to my guts…I want something real, something all open in front of eyes…
I want women to be undressed and men to be peeled from the middle of their chest.
Bam…bam…bam…it’s enough now, this place is full of wood crackers…put some poisons in their blue eyes.
It’s three in the afternoon, I thought of breaking out from the work today…it pays though; but I have to pay a great deal more to sustain this morbid culture.
There are lots of beautiful women here…some with stormed eyes…some with ragged breasts…some with mourning vaginas…
but every one of them is living and creating through the constant violence.
The first day at this little neon lights beside the ancient gutter…and I am trapped to it’s unpretentious melancholy.
A woman opposite to my table wearing a red underwear…I like that…she can take this night out of my blood…
She is leaving, she is going to the inflammation of solitude.
Whiskey is almost finished…that’s my night going outside,
I need to catch her and make a midnight sun out of her.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Google Images.