so it's true
there is a world out there
in which the rich are
inferior to the poor

and there's a woman, more
beautiful than any, desired,
waited upon, a woman to
die for, a woman who only
comes to the dead and sometimes
to the poor and the miserable
and rarely, almost never to the rich,
to the well-being, to those with
full bellies and pockets and
no worry of the morrow

strange tastes she has

above all
she loves madness
the mad never have to search for
her. It is her who hunts them
and unless they grow sober
and sane she never leaves

she goes by many names
and no name at all
and a name this second and
another the next
But names don't matter
she only cares about making love
and you'd better not wash yourself
before getting in bed with her,
don't chase the stingy smell
of hot spirits from your breath
don't clean your teeth or the
vomit stains from your shirt
or the sweat
If your stomach keeps turning
around empty, void and
if your guts could make a little
music while you're at it, it's
even better. She loves this type of music
And if you still wanna take a step further
have your body covered in wounds
and rashes and some broken
bones where possible, a swollen
eye, a bent nose, a chewed off ear,
enough scars, missing teeth, and
oh, boy, she's yours

"Name me, lover boy!"

I call her simply The Muse

What about you? 

Well, I am audacious enough to
call myself
a writer
so I'll say it, I'll introduce him,
my greatest character so far
He doesn't appear in my writings
much, but he does appear often enough,
too often actually, in my thoughts
He appears every time I cross
the living room and glance at the TV
and see a commercial
This character of mine, he wears a black
mask like that of a hangman and
he sneaks behind happy people in
commercials and just before they're
about to open their mouths and
deliver their happy lines he passes
a cord over their heads and violently
strangles them and I see them
thrashing about and chocking and
panicking and the commercials become
bearable once more
Thanks hangman, you are
a beloved character 

In five years.
I don't know where I'll be in
five years
I promised to myself that
I'll be an official published writer
and never told anyone about it
never told my mother about it
but perhaps in
five years
I'll just come home
drunk and vomit all over the
toilet bowl and sink and my shoes
and shirt and I'll fall face down
on the cold tiles and break
my front teeth
and never smile again
It's no myth, it happened before
but I was living with my
grandmother at that time and it
was perhaps the shock of her life
Yet she forgave me
even when I couldn't forgive myself
All I could do was come up with
promises, like
my very soul was a woman whom
I've wronged so damn bad that
I'll have to sacrifice something
of equal or higher value to make up
for it and even after I'd make up
for it things would just
not be the same as before

So I promised myself that I'll get
seriously serious about writing
and do it consistently and
ignore distractions like friends
and girlfriends and pastimes
and eating and sleeping
I would only go to work in order to
earn enough to survive modestly
and spend the rest of my
existence writing and writing
and writing

I wrote so badly that retarded people
could look down on me with pity
and not much changed
But I wrote a lot
And as long as the goal put
volume over quality the goal would be met

Well, all this writing taught
me something
in the
end.
Taught me that sacrifice is the
key to anything one could wish for
in life.
And the sacrifice gets you what
you wished for precisely
at the time when you no longer want it 

A sewage cleaner
that's what the happy man was
but it was not why he was happy

they said his fiance
announced she was pregnant
and she probably was his
fiance because she was pregnant

and she moved in with him
in his bachelor apartment
and were living quite crammed and
she didn't go out much so
they couldn't tell if she was
as happy as him

the reason he was the talk of the office
was the resignation letter he submitted
in the morning
No one even knew his name before that
and no one noticed he was happy
and no one will see him ever again
but they
will remember him
and his
happy face
and will gossip and make
up stories about him


It's there even a doubt? they'll say
That child's not his, man.
Just more proof that women can
get what they want without working
She got pregnant by someone who
didn't want her and found
this fool, moved in with him
and profits. That simple, yeah.

I heard he raped her while
drunk

He used drugs as well,
I mean, that happy face... uh...

To tell you the truth, she's
mentally ill, the wife to be. That condition...
it makes you think with an eight year old's
mind even though you're an adult.

Retardation?

Yeah, an' you can guess how she got pregnant
with him.

Gods, what a despicable individual. And to think
that we worked in the same place with him.
All this time and had no idea.

Yeah, I heard that she's retarded but not only
Guess what, she's a blood relative of him,
some cousin. I don't know how the hell
but she got in his care and... Look what's
happened now. Crazy.

No, no, guys, seriously now. The devil's not
as dark as y'all point out now. She's not
retarded or a blood relative
to him. Just the one
prostitute with whom the
condom happened
to break. These things happen,
it's nothing to laugh about. Now she pretty
much owns him, I guess.
For the next few months at least.

Surely you mean years
I think she actually scammed him

Yeah, it's a common thing with
'em whores. When they feel like going on
a vacation they get pregnant and sue some
fool for child support and go all semi queens
'n shit.
the condom doesn't have to break
they just have to keep it afterwards
and put the stuff inside.
So take heed, gentlemen. Always be
flushing your used condoms down
the toilet if you want to avoid
the ultimate misery. Throwing
'em in the trash bin is not enough anymore

Oh, damn, that's hella good advice, man
Wonder why we don't see more of
them used condoms in the sewers we clean

Shit, that stands to prove that the
world is full of men who don't
raise their own children

How?

You shut up, new guy! Get back to work now. 
Jesus, the nerve of this rookie... 

Somehow it's always the
people that
are most alone who
know the most about
people

here's one undeniable fact:
all of them, everybody, everyone
loves and seeks constantly
to get high

the loners
will drink and pretend
to meditate and
the social ones
will party and fuck and the dull minded
will explain how smart they are
and the truly intelligent will turn
sadistic
and the ugly ones will be
more outgoing and the pretty ones will
get knocked up more

the rich will buy the children of the
poor as sex slaves and the
poor will fill plastic bags
and balloons with feces and would
leave them in the sun and will inhale
the vapors
The middle class will seek more
friends, acquaintances, relationships,
dealers, promotions, real estate,
festivals, explosions. They will always
love explosions of any kind, the bigger and
louder the better

and the young boys will think
of old girls and bully other
young boys to assert dominance and
both those things will get them hard
and high on hormones

politicians will aim to imitate the rich
and poets will aim to imitate the poor

rich singers will sing of how
poor they are
and poor singers will sing of how
they came from rags to riches
and those with a small penis will buy a huge car
and short people will be more aggressive
and the losers will shout "It's not
a contest, you guys..."
and the women of high pride will
adopt one more cat. Forty-two should
be enough, right?
The most outrageous ideologists will
buy megaphones, collect them

weak men will brag about owning
weapons and the right
to use them

the youth will talk to each other
before seeing each other
and the girls will want to know
how tall the boy is and the boy will ask
how much the girl weights and then
he'll be hated so much, so passionately
And the smart girls will use dating
to get free drinks and meals
And the people who play games will
turn to suicide when the artists who
design characters won't do
something exclusively for them, "I want
this character to act like she loves me back!"

the women who love to travel will be
accused of loving to travel because
they secretly wish they got raped

the most valuable of people will become
those who get famous precisely
for having no talent
and everyone will want to
invest in them
so the masses will see them
and feel a bit better about
themselves
No one wants to support the
superior but all laugh
when the inferior acts royal

and "how do you masturbate?"
the journalists will ask the
interviewed hermit

Why are there no hermit women?
Are there no women hermits?

Look, those big companies are
fighting over the right to lie to the
population

fake
fake
Fake

Knowledge is not power anymore
The ability to escape the loop is
and they who are not even caught
in the loop in the first place are
gods