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Unconstipated kicks



Before I asked you why you always need to get the kick,
I had already known the answer, written all over your unamusing face.
All I want you is to make you realise again how low you can get by getting that high,
even if telling you more than a thousand times had not worked
I saw the kind of expression that would humiliate the fresh sunshine of the morning,
and that would take all the colours out from the azure skies
You gaped as if the previous night kick was still working but your eyes told me the story—
how you were longing to get a fix
That’s the only thing you wanted in those hours, that’s your way of life,
and that’s what you do to get yourselves rid of this world.

But tell me, my friend, why you should always go to the place,
where miserable men come to hawk their wives’ earrings
and wanton women live to sell their body?
If only for the piece of powder that you are taking chances
Serious illness, the narcotics police, society’s gaze.
There are more than meets the eye, for I also see it’s not only the urge for shots
compelling you to betray your parents and lie to us and cheat on others
And I’m not saying like I’m now on the other side of the fence.
I’m still so close near you,
though far away from Chingmeirong and Churachandpur.

I can see the Kafkaesque terror that engulfs our land,
where you think you can hide beneath the cigarette packets
armed with the syringes—fuck, who are you gonna poke them with?
And now if you feel I’m telling you too much,
you have to assure me how you are marching through
To the tunes anew, to the beat of the humanity.
But don’t you justify the irregular tempo of our land
makes you dizzy and crave for the final shot before you come clean
And your substances of choice might have made you more unreasonable,
Do you realise how we are plunging into the shithole of decadence?

Ok, take the fifty bucks and get the shot before you lie again
Though I don’t mind it, at least you are not a member of the legislative assholes
You owe me nothing but have to give me one good fucking reason,
why you ever have to continue living the life of a junkie
why you cannot ever see the impending doom
why you simply have to let go of these plights of our existence
Or have I overlooked completely that you are much into the flow?
That you are walking along the roads of our time, feeling alright
that you can see the crimson skies that is azure no more, hear the screaming souls,
touch the nadir where the lowest of animals have dared to drudge . . .

Enjoying the oblation for living for living’s sake
As you find new ways of permanent high, supplementing the heroin
With grass and amphetamines  and methadones and buprenorphines
But a chain is only as strong as its weakest link
How on earth, or hell for that matter, are you gonna be in the nexus
With defective credibility and delirious consciousness?
It was already late when people graduated from pot to powder
Now it’s better late than ever to give up your addiction
My dear friend, I’m already high though
Getting the kicks out of chewing over the books of our future. 


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