I go outside to my roof and I see the stars…
and there is still one more chance left…one more swing before submitting to soil.
I see a pacific pride sleeping in complete benevolence above my head,
the silence of unknowns,
the wisdom of a naked tunnel.
Wind roars, numb trees and the fat women with sagging breasts close their drapes,
lights are off but consciousness is all around the lagging queerness.
Once you go beyond your own senses; everything else start making more senses…
The booze is here, so am I…
but these consequences of being drunk will always be there, I won’t be.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Rayan.