WHOOOA! vagabond stories

aremdaich Whole essence of me
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
Unstructured poem about vagabonding.


The days are roasting in the sun and the weed is smoked, I walk in flip-flops and boxers, drinking water, riding a horse, driving in a car, working the field.

I'm constructing a building from logs.

Mad German and Prophet Simon are here.

Carpenter Konstantin and Yolanda who used to do heroin - girlfriend of Martin, and she has a gorgeous daughter.

Pregnant Samira, daughter of Prophet, partner of Konstantin.

Cyril, a devil from Switzerland, evil Catman.

And me, meditating about my future, painting plans and dreams and envisioning, future of something I have no ideas about what it is.

I've had a few years of organized history, It crumbled like a house of cards.

Drinks, weed, love, manual labour, but I was thankful for it.

I got kicked by life a few times too:

prostitutes, transvestites, chemical drugs, times without money and existing in Bengali sublet, also, a lesson in Hong Kong and China I drove through as fast as I could without any regards to anything in escape from my own happiness.

The happiness of a young man-manager of one of the thousands of nameless coffee shops (but I respect all the hardworking people I met there because they are awesome and they're my friends), but I wanted to vagabond.

I always liked to vagabond:

just like hundreds of thousands faceless people without a home, freezing on streets, clinging to a cigarette bud.

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