The City

The seventeen wards of that hospital, my cousin’s house, the metro stations, the malls,training room 2, the floor of my office, my room,the balcony.
Pieces everywhere.
Some mornings, I feel like going to all these places,picking up the pieces and putting back the heart I came to this city with.And then taking off to a place where no one can find me.

One morning, maybe I will.

This city is a whore. Fucked by anyone who can. It has children it cannot take care of, left abandoned on the streets to fend for their soulless bodies or bastards tucked away with money, soulless nevertheless.

She lies drugged in smoke, reeking of novel odors I did not know existed. She entices me for a smoke and something more.

I see her, smell her and every night I hear her whispering in my ear.

Time and money Count.Rate.Label.

No, don’t you dare laugh or smile, your happiness is offensive to us.

No, don’t you dare raise the temperature of this room, we keep it so to match the coldness of our manner.

How dare you be nice?? Showing off huh?? Let’s see how long you last bitch.

Do us a favor, die or get out, at least then we can replace you by a non problematic version of you and get on with our lives.

There is this foul sarcastic apathetic lascivious spirit that floats here. Paranoid and afraid.

But yes, if there is something I can give to them is the fact that they can put up an act.

The circus goes on every day.

I laugh at myself every day. Whenever I look in the mirror, I can’t but laugh.
I come up with the most hilarious things now a days.May be the humor comes tailgating the misery.

I"m not nice, I'm just alive you morons. Only if you knew what it is to be nice you would know the difference.

I know I have to get out, just get what I want, and get out.

One morning, I will.