PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We drink to memory loss, smoke up a sore throat, dance to a limb failure, listen to music to disrupted ligaments and pain in temples. We cherish every moment and do not lose time, decaying inside and outside. Each of us will still be decomposed by worms and fungi, why not spoil their appetite with unhealthy dead liver? Why facilitate their work, still they have nothing else to do.

We all going to go in hell. We make black jokes about our Jewish English teacher, who we actually love and respect, just jokes appear to be very funny. We (well, “we”) can write the obituary of a friend and not see anything wrong with that. In us there is too much of naivety and too little of compassion. In us there is too much of bravery and too little of fear. We all going to go in hell, we all know it and are not afraid. We have too many questions and too little of faith.

We watch stupid comedies and art house films, we are the children of oppositions, and every second contrasts collide within us, creating a supernova or a red giant, which each of us is capable of, and we fill it up, each their own, with the next portion of a forty-drink and give it smoky oxygen to burn stronger, bigger, higher, louder, brighter.

And what if we stop? If we decide that it's time to go to the twelve degrees and fifty kilometres per hour? That it's time to get off the fourteen and shoe something more comfortable? That that's enough to run eight, you can stop at three? Hardly a fate of at least a small, dim star in a distant part of the left arm of the Milky Way is awaiting for us. We’ll go straight to the white dwarf stage, which will shine grimly with his hump on everyone, or we’ll drag everything around in our depression of darkness. And there will be nothing. No songs, no dances, no walks to the lake at 5 am. The only thing left will be a mark on the intergalactic map - "Stay away. And DON’T PANIC".

While we drink, smoke, joke and sing, the world will be saved. While we can get out of the car on the move at the speed of a hundred kilometres per hour, boredom will not absorb all the things living. While we are ill with madness, we will live. While we are not trying to ease our existence, it’s all simple, light and free.

We are.