s e x

33 4 1
                                    

Trigger warning
Involves mentioning of indulgences. Do not read it you are not comfortable. Do not read if you are a reader who gets easily triggered by such actions..
Humble request: Please do not attempt these actions. They can kill you. You're life is too precious to waste. On anything. Please. Do not attempt the actions below. I love you too much to lose you guys..




S M O K E & D U S T

I don't know what to think right now... I just know know what to think right now...


















A man just shot himself in front of me... Just like that.














I was walking in a dark suburban neighbourhood. The yellow flickering light placed conveniently above a garbage bin. The houses looked shady and the air had a weird smell... Of rats. And a lot of Mary Jane. It grows here. Wild. Almost every house is dead and disgusting. Excerpt for the lawn in front of them. They are lively with wild Marijuana growing on them.

And then... I saw him. Laughing to himself.

He was laying there. On a stack of old newspapers and a box of cheap liquor laying next to him. He had a thick brown blunt in his mouth puffing it away and coughed himself to death. And of course the hoarse drowsy laugh escaping his mouth.
'Hey kiddo. Get yo' sorry ass up here. Come on here.' He slurred.

Guess what? I went up to him.

He spoke to me. He spoke to me about his life. He told me about his little things.

He killed his son. And his wife saw him do it. So he killed her too. And he loved them. Loved them so much. He was just high on illegal marijuana. The same greens that he consumed that converted his dreams into an empire. That made him forget about his depressing life. Life is all about the survival of the richest, he said. He had a lot of regrets. He failed as a son. He failed as a brother. He failed as a husband. He failed as a father. He failed. And he couldn't take it.

He laughed again. This time he gulped half a bottle of burning alcohol in one go. He then laughed again.

He told me he could see colours. Those colours were beautiful. They were swarming around him like heavy clouds. Clouds of thoughts and voices. He could still here them. His late family. Their laughs. Their cries. Their screams. Thy everything went red. All because he had an affair. With his beloved Mari Jane. And smoke. Lots of smoke.

He pulled out a muddy bent cigarette. He then pulled out his old lighter. It was a colour I couldn't identify. Slowly placing the cancer stick between his mouth, he lit the roll, his face filled with warmth and comfort.

He was silent after that. He just stared at a distance for some time, his old weary blue eyes glazed with a layer of salty tears. Puffing a few more times, he crushed his old faded cheap cigarette on the ground, before looking at me with his bloodshot eyes. Emotionless. Hopeless. His eyes slowly followed something from the corner. I heard it. The clicking. My breathe stopped. I became blank. I just stared at his blank eyes. That hid all of his emotions. That told me a story in shortest time.

I just stared at those eyes that died in front of me.

I saw his tired blue eyes die.

And I ran.

This suburb makes me feel uneasy. I can't feel my breath. I am just running. The lights that illuminate the rough roads show me the way to a bin.

My throat feels heated up. I feel dizzy. I feel hungry. I feel anxious. I feel angry. I am scared. I am confused. I am nauseous. I feel empty.

I watch as all my emotions come out of my mouth as I puke out what I ate three days ago. It hurts. Everything hurts. I am weak. I need to stop.

But I won't.

Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I run continue to run. Run away from this place. I am going to still reach the city. Maybe things are different there. Maybe the wonders there are much more different there. They may be bigger.

That man's eyes turned pitch black as his last tears escapes his dry tired sore eyes.

No no... this is not happiness. Don't let this hurt you Wesley. No. Run. Don't look back.

Enjoy the little things kiddo. The big things are painful.

Those were the last words he told me. That can't be true. This is not true. I will see the big things. And get happiness. I did not leave my mother for giving up. I am not turning back now.

But he was right about the little things. We must enjoy them.

Like these dancing dust particles in front of me. They are beautiful. I stop in my tracks out of breath watching these little specs of beauty telling me something.

The specs of waltzing dust are seen because of light obviously. And that light is showing me colours. Wild colours that are not that easy to differentiate. Yet they are different. Making me feel uneasy. Jut like that man. That died in front of me. I can here noise. White noise. And all I can see was where the light came from...

I can't think anymore. I just can't think anymore.






Two headlights coming towards me..














And they are not stoping...













Wesley.

Little Things.   #wattys2017Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora