Journal

Woke early …morn was trope of birds floating gently in the air. Greedily devoured mom’s sweet tea. Smoked a lot of fags. Clouds lay in mystic colors …orange, purple and violet. A butterfly perched on my hand; it was a saint bringing me good tidings. My significant other in Cochin gave me a reply that she delivered a baby boy. How I long to make sweet love to her. With vermilion sprinkled on her forehead she looks very beautiful. That Filipino cunt that I had an affair with is really a bother. She is become an old hag. The sun became a shining ball of light. How I long to lead a retired life devoted to writing. I long to bring my significant other from Ghana and I long to make love to her. Poems bloomed like flowers. I have been writing for years and how I long for fame and recognition. Is my writing so really bad? Yes, my poems have won some good reviews and I am so happy about it. I am running short of money and I desperately need a good paying job. In my mother’s school I am paid a pittance. I really hate my mother the old hag. She wears a gold necklace and I long to wrest it from her. Yes, I also hate my conniving wife. She has taken me to asylum many times. Cops are a real fuck! A fucking astrologer wrote imprisonment for me …luckily nothing of that sort happened to me. Astrologers are fucked up assholes. I admire the beauty in simple things of life. I need to win a windfall and buy a house in the hills in Munnar and live with the rest of my life with significant other. My significant other is Grace and she is so charming and beautiful. Am I progressing in the art of writing? I really don’t know! I must be. I am so fucking fond of writing. Time bring a syllable of thought. Music what passions you bring to the soul. Charm is an enigma …a mystic solitude and passion is her sister. My soul is a brothel of pollution. Luck you are a tame brother. The sky lay as mystic white feathers. Bards of poems flew in the sky. A poem rode a motorcycle. Summer is come and I am waiting for the monsoon. I am thinking of the houseboats lying in the tranquil backwaters of Kerala. I long to spend a night in erotic ecstasy in them with my significant other. Time has become an erotic stream of thought. Christianity is an Armageddonizing religion. Christ you are the biggest egotist. Religion is a stinking chalice. Time, free from the pain of lacking money. I am a swine frolicking in the sea of thought. Life is a surrealistic painting. The artist of life is the body. I am shitting a body of thought. I want to enjoy passions to the brim. I want every day to be a financially lucky one. Windfoliate my petals with joy. I am a Cervantes of Postmodern Fiction. Time relieve the cramps of bad luck. Life feed me with luck. Life is an extreme and there is no middle way as Buddha said. Nietzsche, I owe you poems of roses. When will Time heal the wound of my body? Nirvana I wing you a harp. Poems of joy wake my body up. Sing a joyful song to nature. Melancholy you are a trembling chain. I need a well paid joy. Christianity tyrannizes the soul. Passions run into a river that’s deep. I long to be gratified in sex. Sex is a pain that hurts. My lovers are far away: what to do? Pain, you are a bleeding anathema. I want to surgicalize my wounds. I want to sensationalize my feelings. Brothel is the dope of the mind. Passion you have to sterilize the body. Orgasm is an epic novel of the mind. How to slutify my mind? I am creative, poetic and Epicurean. I have been an oppressed child. Time has to heal my wounds. God arranged a marriage that was fucked up. I need to go to Ghana to see my significant other. I want to make love to her. Passion, you wing of hope. Time is a serial killer. Luck when can I expect your good tidings? I am not willing to deny my life and take up the cross and follow Jesus. Can a virgin conceive? Bah! Baloney! All religions are prostitutes conniving innocent souls. I am going to Nirvanize my religion. Devil does not dance to my tunes. I am confused about my worldviews. I have worshipped the Devil but I have found that’s no use. The Devil is a fucked up stinker. Why can’t God be permissive about Sin? I have wasted 48 years of my life. That Filipino cunt is a fucked up rat. Woe, I give you a big fuck. My wife is fucking cunt. Muhammad brothelized religion. I don’t canonize saints but I canonize my dick. Time, don’t treat me like a dead duck. I am generous and liberal with money. God you are a Scrooge of desire. I have to strangle my wife and mother. Oh God I would love to kill them. They are my worst enemies. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Patience I can’t wait to torch you. Windfall, you owe me a big applause. Time, free the wings of my body. Refuge, you are a whore of thought. I have been dreaming about a windfall but I have not been lucky in getting one. Why the fuck is that? The All Seeing Eye the Unfinished Pyramid, you can go to hell. Masons babble hypocrisy. Luck is a demon that has not been kind to me. I am a fucked up brothel and a stinking asylum. I curse the day of my birth. I am not speaking vain words. Heaven and eternity don’t mean anything to me. They are just a fart. Woo time to win me a windfall.

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