An entire generation becoming a dumb nincompoop just by being existent.
The television, the newspapers, the art, the fight, the hungry womb, the stinking fire
every frolicking ingredients have become an agenda to create some faithful servants of nonthinking machineries.
The road is long ahead,
we are in a time where with each seconds we are becoming a colony of deaths in our ways to become remembered.
Though it’s true that nothing can be out of patterns and familiarities,
it has always been our purpose to devour our success and failures to non-existent of those.
I guess I don’t want to be inside these workings anymore,
it’s better to fall in love with a desert and it’s horizons of warm sands,
it’s better to sleep on that last land of primitivity and die with the sense of unanimity than to be privileged in a civilization of courage; wasted on the segregation of one blood and one soul.

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Photograph: Aquil Akhter.