Wet Pants in an Ashtray


Weariness,
Sickening sickness
drags him down in the cold
warmth of his old stiff body
as his passive rebellious youthfulness
sinks into the still moving sands
of his chair.

Weariness,
On the sides where his hands
lay on arms still still and stale,
His darkened mournful eyes pondering,
tell the tale of the mournful morning
at midnight.

Weariness,
made of the dark room,
the warm worn crimson chair
and the grey white window
from which the young man stares
at the rain.

He waits for the Raven,
But no Raven comes.

Passiveness,
His youthful wrinkled eyes,
still and stale, tell the tale
of how nothing happened
on that mournful morning.

Passively,
he strokes his dick,
led astray on a tray
of comfortable discomfort,
he heads towards the ashtray
in which they laid his bed.

The voices in his head are long gone.
There lays his bed,
He runs and runs to the ashtray,
It is HE who laid his bed,
The characters in his head
are long gone,
There’s no one to converse with,
He strokes his dick more heavily
and rapidly in verse,
He creates an audience
but there’s no play to commerce,
He strokes his dick
he’s finally involved in something.

He strokes his dick

it’s a conversation

with the Angels

he’s lying to himself

with the night

he’s lying to himself

with the dark shadowy lights

he’s lying to himself

with silence

he’s lying, he’s lying,

with himself

he’s lying with himself,
he’s lying –there’s no conversation.

 

Passiveness,
He sits still still and stale,
The morning has gotten pale,
From blue-grey to yellow clay he saw it,
But he saw nothing; he lay
staring at the ceiling
in the trance of his wet pants.

This Story Is Not About Windows

I was on campus, sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, wondering about how chairs would look like if our knees bent the other way… then the girl I’ve been eyeing for two semesters walked by and dropped her university ID card. It fell right in front of me. She didn’t notice it fall and continued walking.

Not all heroes wear capes! I picked her card up, looked at it, noticed her birthday was the same day that day, and went after her

“Hey !”  I want to kiss you!
“Hey.”
“You dropped your card back there.” I was checking out your behind too!
“Oh! Thank you; that’s sweet.”
“So, uhm, happy birthday I guess.”
“Hah! Right, we don’t celebrate birthdays.”
“Come again?” what the?
“I’m a Jehovah’s witness, we don’t celebrate birthdays.”
“Ow…” Abort mission ! Abandon ship ! Game Over !
“I know, some people freak out, but it’s no big deal.”
“Sure. I mean, yeah, sure.” Hypocrite!
“It’s okay. I get that reaction all the time.”
“No, it’s fine, really. Do you have any plans for tonight ?” I think she likes your “The Doors” t-shirt man!
“Actually, I don’t. What do you have in mind?”
SEX! “We could go for dinner.”
“Sure. Pick me up at seven?”
“Yeah, sure.” We getting’ laid tonight!

Anyway, I picked her up and drove to the restaurant.

I ordered half a kilo of barbecue with fries and garlic, because I’m a romantic. She ordered a cappuccino.

While devouring whatever was in my plate, her phone rang, and needless to say, her ringtone was “Knockin’ on heaven’s door”. I couldn’t contain myself and laughed so hard. Then she blushed and the waiter serving the other table spilled the wine he was pouring. It looked really bad, but she answered her phone anyway while giving me the look, as if it was my fault that the universe is a comedy show.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes, Goddamnit! Still on the phone. She wasn’t looking at me anymore; she was stirring her now ice cold cappuccino. I couldn’t even make out what she was talking about, something about duct tape, baby bottles and rat poison. I don’t know.

After counting how many toothpicks were on the table and then counting the tables in the restaurant, I thought it’s time to leave, because this phone would last longer than Moses in the desert for 40 years.

I opened the ketchup bottle and wrote “you’re a-door-able” on my plate. Then I got up and left the table.

I looked back, she was staring outside the window, still on the phone.

I went up to the cashier, paid for the laughs, and went out.

It was raining cats, dogs, kangaroos, you name it!

I was driving, and I could barely see the road ahead of me. The radio volume was low for one reason only – a better vision…

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