13 june 2005

slowly, the walls are crumbling... the butterflies are leaving. flowers are withering. the air smells of burnt rubber... or it could be burnt skin. black clouds taking over. the wind is suddenly biting cold. there's no one to talk to. no one to share my sweet smoke with. i wonder where everybody has gone to. the whole city is deserted. i can hear a can of Coke (or Pepsi who cares?) rolling on a street somewhere. it will stop when it runs into something. lucky thing... its destination already mapped out. a lot luckier than me, i guess. here i am, smoking my ass off on this bench in the middle of a forgotten city... beautifully mastering the awful art of racking your brains with loose thoughts, hopeless dreams, x's and y's... completely unaware of what the next five seconds will bring. the word 'lucky' must have been coined by Coke (or Pepsi).

a pitiful soul i am, i must say. my smoke is fast burning out. first few drops of rain have touched my skin. the can of Coke has stopped rolling (i'm happy for it... he's finally settled). butterflies are still nowhere in sight. just like everything in their rightful places, i'm still here on this same bench, puffing the last of my smoke and lighting another. i guess i'll stay here for a while and let myself drown in the coming rain. it's been two hours since that stranger i shared my smoke with left and took the bus. and yet it almost feels like it's only been minutes ago. i guess i can stay here and smoke some more. wait for another can of soda to roll by...