Vitamin Nothing

Sometimes we're just unsure of what we're looking at and we overcome that by the power of naming.

Beats "furry thing-a-majig" everytime

Sometimes when I look at the plain parquet of a mosque I see footprints of people sauntering their marking all over the house of God. Makes you wonder "siapalar yang pakai kasut masuk surau ni"

Sometimes when I look through the clouds I can see distant flight machines, remembering the olden days of propelling noises.

Sometimes there'd be two, clashing against each other like two stars in the - not endless really, more of a "besar gile" - godforsaken space.

I see clouds as one of God's most beautiful animated inanimate objects, the malapropism of it all touches my heart.

Foxes in pin-striped coats incarnated into the figure of a fisherman.

He visits daily, sometimes to sneak a few of those nuggets I bought from KFC the day before.

Funnily enough, no one even remembers his name anymore.

So we just call him the ever glamorous name of Pak Mat

The way he dreams of owning a ship as the words are dictated through his rotting teeth, makes me smile with my perfect ones as I sit under the cherry tree.

I think smokers need their own culture.

Drugs had it with their junkies.

Sex had it with their Democrats and Protestant.

The colour of their lungs don't bother me at all really, it's more of the demeanour.
How the fogs of monoxide shroud their faces when they talk beatifically (no matter the usage of vocabulary) of what they did out in the ocean or in their office.

Even the mundane ones tend to be more interesting, coughing out their seemingly last breath, and continue on laughing at you when you bring your something from home to eat.

Sometimes I wonder who's laughing last, but I guess it's kinda amusing when a person carries a portable exhaust pipe in between their phalanges WHILE bantering about the current fossil fuel economy.

As the petrol price rises, so does their blood pressure. Literally.

An as an avid aficionado of literati and countercultures I dare say that "The One-Toothed Fisherman" will always be the closest to my crackling soul of copper.

Oh, god this was a very jovial post.
I'm gonna go bomb a christmas tree.

Massalam