Sedated reality

I've been searching for similes like a grain of salt in sand

for days now but this is all i have.

I've tried rattling them off like a snake in the grass but

I keep getting bitten on the hand

so to dull the pain I take

caffeine, nicotine, skunky weed and Benzedrine, imagining

holding hands with Ginsberg walking down the strand.

I've known Bukowskis' Bluebird chirping in my soul

singing of the pain and abhorrence of man

sitting in dark rooms burning trees like a bushfire

using papers from the libraries of Baghdad

igniting and erupting into a ball of flame,

Infamy over fame!

Pleasure over shame!

Shit, could someone pass the ashtray please?

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About the author: Aryan Ali-murad is a creative writer, and you can follow him on IG here

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