English Engelska الإنجليزيّة
Lorries hunt me. Most of them but specifically double articulated lorries with giant tires where the tread depth is the size of wrinkles in a field. A barren field, that once grew wheat. Roadsigns hunt me. Mostly at night when the antlers are visible and eyes open. They look at me. The pole can rotate 360 degrees at least. The sky hunt me. When I look up it is always gone and instead there is a concrete ceiling that is crying powder in my mouth that turns into plastic state. Blood and tears and no air. Cars do not care about me and neither do drivers as long as my mind is blank. And then I think about them and they can perceive my thoughts. All of them hunt me and hate me except for one that reciprocated my thoughts. He took me on a date. It was a date in the way that it was a meeting between two people. But it had no roses or curiosity. At least I am not alone I thought and from that moment on I was naked on a bed of concrete and there were lorries and road signs and no sky.