I am distracted, and I can't hide it. I'm bored out of my mind and I really hate it.
The never-ending bullshit that swirls around me, like an ipo-ipo, a tiny twister, irritating me, trying to suck me into its skinny ass. My frustration and anger level is very high. I want to lash out and hit something, some living thing, a tree, a dog, some pork meat.
Buildings, light, walls, shadows, broken glass, asphalt road, pebbles, rubber shoes, rats, texture of the city. I am running like hell, away from myself.
I want it all to stop and leave me alone. I want to change my brain and mind and insides and be someone else. I want to be wherever I am not. Where I can see the horizon all around, the clear sky, and hear nothing but the breaking surf or a falling tree.
I really, really, really want something else for myself. Maybe a bookstore in Canada. Will I like it in Canada?
I made her cry the other day. I want to throw out so many things from my condo. I want to strangle my neighbor. I am holding on to and cursing a rope, slipping off my hand. I should let go and let the chip fall where it may.
A thud. I want a thud.
Kiss me. Kick me. Do something. I want to run around the city like a plane looking for parking. I want to ride the MRT at twice its speed. I want to swing from all the tall buildings. I want to step on all the heads of everone in the massive crowd. I want shotguns and pellets and high heels.
I want to throw a cat outside the window.
I want to break out, don't stop to ask. Try to make it last. I want to find a way down the alleys and byways and highways and the fields and cats and the antelopes. Where everything is made of leather and bones and decaying leaves.
I want to squish the fat, green caterpillar with my aching, bare foot.
Who should I blame? Who can I slap in the face? Kick in the groin? Whose head deserves a baseball bat? This damn country is falling apart and we are all frogs slowly boiling in this fucking cauldron.
You, you, you. I hate all your indifference. Let's all die, except for me. I am so damned angry. I don't care to make sense or make excuses. I am about to explode.
Hey, you, guy looking at me with your fucking eye. Don't wink, don't offer me a drink. I will connect my elbow to your chest, and slam it with all my might. Don't touch my breast. See this ring? With this ring I will scratch thine lovely, boy-toy face.
Do me, do me a big favor, and get out of my way. Get out of my hair. Let me enjoy my margarita in peace.