I Just Want To Burn Time Until There's No More Time For Me To Burn.

A Midsummer Night's Melancholia

With dry lips, she contemplated the night Lonely, sad and thirsty for such a long time, She cried for she didn't know how, but her memories of glee turn to sorrow dust.

It was a still and silent summer night. On top of the world, she behold the closed house Once filled with laugh, now it's empty with shouts Anything not bolt to the ground, now is resting by the street light.

One step in front of the other, The dulled naked feet, step down By the edge of the moonlight She contemplated the summer night

Her cries were heard by no one except for the wind, Now sitting, arms crossed, eyes closed, gentle weep The cheery night did not care for her, Only when they were together everything seemed to be OK.

Now loneliness was by her side, Better forgotten than being forced to smile Yearning some rest and peace of mind Hoping to drink clear sky by the next morning light

Waiting for a Car

Waiting for a car. Cold street night, Looking at how people talk, Dancing clowns in the park.

Adults are drinking in the warm bar. Delicious displays are full of pie. Black, dry coffee is steaming from the cups. While my bones are crying mad.

Now clouds are stealing the stars. I almost felt a presence touching my arm. The vehicle is here, and the doors are ajar. A pleasant hug inside while the rain pours down the night.

Writing prompt. Dialog: 1.

-"How do you make beer?" Asked Ryan.

-"As far as I know, It's like making bread , but you add water." Said Muck

-"It can't be, my cousing works in a bakery, they use water to make the dough." Ryan took a sip of orange juice.

-"Well, if you know so much, why are you bothering me?" Muk protested.

-"I've never claimed to be an expert, I just know water is used in both processes, I was asking out of curiosity."

-"Ok, but why is beer a subject matter now? It's not even noon!"

-"I've heard some cats are collecting postcards as a hobby, well I want to make beer as a passtime."

-"You mean, penpals?" Asked Muk with a grin.

-"No, no! I mean the square thing on the postcard!" Ryan, as short tempered as he was, slammed the table, spilling some juice and almost tipping off Muk's cup of coffee.

-"whoah! Slow down pal! You were talking about beers, why this craving all the sudden?"

- "I don't want to drink them, I want to make them, as a change of pace."

-"So, are you quitting the job anytime soon?" Asked Muk before taking a big gulp of black coffee.

-"No, It'll be a passtime. Look at Tom, the poor guy never took a day off, no passions, not even a single nap. And now he's shaded, a walking corpse!"

-"I see what you mean, it would be a shame to lose you, including your charming personality." Muk smirked.

Ryan was about to protest, but he keep it to himself.

The waiter brought the check, Ryan invited the breakfast.

-"It's called a stamp." Said Muk, while giving his friend the knife.

And they crossed the door thresshold at the same time.

Just another day...

Another comunist eating a big mac

It's so hot in the summer; it's a waste of time.

Free thinkers are chugging Simon's chyme.

[Chorus]

Just another day in paradise!!!

Don't sit around; you better get green bucks!

While the fascists are doing peace signs

Happy Birthday, Rosy! Have some rotten pie!

[Chorus]

Just another day in this futuristic grime!!!

Life and microchips were a mistake.

A crisis is caused by greed and pain.

Don´t ask your grandma, or she'll rot in hell.

[Chorus]

Just another day is what it takes!!!

Just don't look at the news!!

Panic and powder are on the Day view!!

Shit eating grins showing a school phew phew!!

[Chorus]

Just another day in disgust!!

"The law is made for you to abide!"

exclaimed the micro-plastic rich with pride.

While politicians are launching the last genocide.

[Chorus]

Just another day in paradise!!!

Emanations from a desperate mind

There used to be a library in the middle of the sea. Almost touching the starry sky, as shelves stood the trees. A library that holds every story to be seen.

But you found it empty, in complete disuse. You're looking for a single small, pale book. In this vast desolation, it's waiting for you.

Written in gold, it's called "The things you like." quite obvious for those know-alls who don't care or mind. However, you want to learn more about your essence.

The library is endless; you shudder for what's lurking beneath the cold waves. With strong winds, you let the small boat move again. Maybe the next row of trees might have a clue as to where to find your soul.

A short conversation

The old-fashioned red telephone rang. The sound was heard in every corner of the house. Weirded out, the one drinking coffee started to answer. It was a friend who two days ago kicked the bucket.

-- But why are you calling me? Asked the one whose coffee was turning cold. -- I missed you, and I want to check how you are doing. -- That's very kind, but you are not supposed to be talking to me.

In the small studio, the conversation went on. While outside, there was a howling storm. With dry sweat on his chest, The coffee drinker pressed the handset on his head.

-- I can't see very much from here; I'm not in the mood to move. -- That's because you are affected by a lack of life. -- Don't be silly; it happens all the time!

Surreal, yet so mundane Who would have guessed? A dialogue with a recently lost friend But the living one was now impatient.

-- I mean, you're deceased, you are not supposed to contact me. -- I reckon so, but it wouldn't hurt to talk while having some tea. -- Do you drink? But you didn't like it!

A sigh was heard from the other side. It was clear that the lost one was ready to puke it all out. And what he said made our drinker pale for quite a while.

-- life is what happens between lunches. I forgot to exist, and it took a few punches. I know it's manipulative, but please do not be mean. and accept my sincere apology.

The not-so alive one hung up the phone. What's more ghastly than guilt and woe? What's more unforgivable than lost love? From the small studio, a cry was heard that lasted a month.

Orange crescent moon

My dear friend is near.

But it is so far away.

I saw her last night.

By the side of the road.

How many years have passed?

How many tears had I wept?

No matter what choice I make,

I forgot to pray.

How much does the guilt weigh?

How much time passed? Or I ate.

Now she's a shadow of herself.

While a hole grows larger in my chest.

I want to sleep by her side.

Hiding from undefined mistakes,

For once, to feel rested and well.

Again, I say, so fair, lady.

Eyes as blue as the sky,

With a charming, big smile,

Her red lips against a skin so pale.

I should forgive everyone.

Even those who broke my entrails

Because God is looking up there.

While the moon is my only friend.

Do you have a favourite conspiracy theory

I'm between that conspiracy about bots managing internet traffic, data mining and manipulating the public's opinion to certain agendas and the alleged vampire attacks in central america staged by some US agencies in order to cause mass hysteria.

Walking home

I was walking on the train tracks alone. While rainy, foggy darkness was surrounding me, I can barely see thanks to my phone. walking next to a ditch stream, knee-deep.

My only witness was a cute little bird. Jumping, flying, chirping, and crying While I'm under my umbrella made of blue. Against the fabric, the water burred

Walking through a deserted rural zone In the distance, I could see the next station light. My trousers are being moisturized, and my head is dry from the storm. But I had to be careful not to jam my shoes on the track.

The night is cold. My hands are shaking. No reflections; I can't see my breath. There is no option but to keep walking. Each step on the quebracho Railroad ties gets me closer to my bed.

Suddenly, a cold breeze sent shivers down my spine. Something was coming, but the little bird told me not to look back. I shall be fine as long as I keep moving forward. It was the entity that was roaming around.

-"Hello young boy", the suave voice said. A sharp pain on my shoulder almost made me faint. But the bird told me not to look back. That's how it gets you, you shall never be seen alive.

-"It's rude to not answer in kind." I could feel a strong grip behind my neck. I acted as if I didn't care; I carried on with my long steps. But the presence was persistent enough to be contemplated.

-"If you don't talk to me, you'll regret it now!" The bird could not speak up, for it was pulled back fast. The last thing the birdie could tell was not to look back. Now we were alone—it and I.

I tried to run to the next station light. It was in vain; I was far away. And the creature was clawing my legs. -"It's over, young one; you shall be a nice dessert."

Ears on the wet ground I couldn't help it, but I laughed aloud. Its claws lifted my face. -"What's so funny, or did you just lose your head?"

With a quick kick, I made it stumble to the tracks. -"The train is almost here, you ghastly clown," and then I got up. The wretched-looking thing did not understand. But the train took all its remains to the moon and out.

Emerging from the dark fog The silent metal snake carried out its route. From that night forward, I did not travel alone. Because I can see it's wicked grin when I keep my eyes close.

The chase is on

The chase is on. It's pointless to look back. She was running wild. While her persecutor follows by

Small steps full of hatred Echoes through still dark hallways One mistake, and it's over.

The chase will never end. She has created karma in her soul. Her shadow is what hunts her. So they can be again whole.

Small steps full of woe The dark wooden door is blocked. Now the persecutor touches her cheekbone.

The chase has concluded. They are coming back home. Old personalities begin to dissolve. While the heart yearns for a safe return.