Russia will be another Mohenjo-daro
Prose poetry
another day, the sun moves around the earth. coffee and cigarettes. there’s a tyre burning on 6th street. you take your newspaper to the toilet. hi, i do not have WhatsApp on my phone, please send me an email. i can do it again. live, breathe, laugh, sex, wear stockings up my legs. so what you didn’t dream of me, you have hurt me in our previous lifetimes. Sisyphus’s cycle.
meet me at 4 near Coffee House. piss stench, betel stain, jingling coins of tram rides, so many people we shake hands with. so what you didn’t think of me today. my tongue is dry, the sky weeps my tears.
munch, crunch, bite. how many bread butter coffees we agree to. signing another contract. which one is Roy? new model in the city. oh she has got the attitude of a cat. she asks for money for boudoir? send her to my studio.
i can do it again, so what you bled from your chin this morning. your razor slit your skin, my silent cry. shake hands, take the metro to the south of the city. new men, sleep over another memory of meaningless sex. easy peasy. life is not hard. it’s repetitive.
this city, that city, flight journeys reserved for your thought. lights, camera, action, collaborations. no money. keep doing. do, do, do, doing. cup noodles for dinner. silence boxed within four walls, blank canvas, a volcano in my mind. splash paint, sell it for less. they got more money, their art is capitalistic. watch me, i can do it too. money will flow someday.
or not. paint will corrode. moss will ruin your canvases. he will be caught in another #metoo row. everyone will know what he did to them. bloodstain on money. she will die of an overdose. they will lose followers on social media. i am telling you. Russia will be another Mohenjodaro.
so what you didn’t think of me today, you will wait for me at the station.
enjoyed reading? :)
consider, supporting me here :
