Wild grasses still know me.
They grow besides the marks of my tyres.
I don’t know them but they know me.
My strings are loose…they go nowhere,
but theirs are strongly hooked with me.

Stones are sleeping…and hills open their legs for this brutal ocean…
I am without any late night forgettable intercourses…
but the stones and the salt water always make out on hills of silent stings.

The strangest solitude are those which can give you nothing but insecurities…
I like them…they make me feel alive…like warm beers, like defrosted human thumbs.

Once I bought a book of doctrines to feel intellectual…
the hardback is all stained with circled marks of vaporized bottles,
there’s no humor in them…no sex…no statements…no madness.
I don’t read words without them.

So everything taken except my own stubborn mind.
I walk through the broken boulevard in the evening,
the truth is this world never walks with me…
but I try my best.
I walk through the arenas of blooded fighters,
all the booing, swearings, sweats… everything real.
Strangely this place never goes out of my fist,
my solo companion it is.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Aditya Adhi.