Coffee Shop Poetry 2

"I believe I have made my case pretty clear, your honor."
"I understand you do so. And should you do so, under my clear warnings, my constant, raving accusations of forgery! Blasphemy! Lies and deceit to come since ever from your filthy mouth! Oh but how I loathe you and everything that you represent! Silence at once! Silent you shall rest! No! No more!

And so the water broke. Ripped the shallow and fragile levee that once withheld. Itself. Out came the surfers. Proud and vicious, skimmering the water, side by side, they sang in tune. Scared and ducked on the corner, we waited on the dune. The wave seemlessly evoked more bubbly effects on our water. We had been hurting the water, that was the purpose of the surfers, the grunge forecasters, the savage battle carriers. United they stand against our awe. Awesome is their power, destructive and plentyful fear. And so, after a moment of silence, the tide calmed down.

Into the water we went. Sunk forever yearnful of better days. Last sips of air bubble away in the green obscurity. The souls begin their chants. Haunting emotions translated into cries of pain. In comes the cult. You are in the middle of it. It is your initiation rite. Your last rites. Into a new life. You understand it and decide to carry on with it. What follows is a mass avalanche of destruction of everything you ever held dear. It is truly the end, the new beginning. The moment you had been waiting for. Served on a platter. Splattered on the floor. Vomitted across the living room. Twirling up into space never changing or decaying. The souls still observe, though now from a longer distance. Waves of different values begin with heavy debate. Masterful tides of sheer volume explode inside of you. You feel it normally now. The yellow now calms you. The feeling now repetitive, generates pleasure, not pain. Will feel better the next times, that's the way it sells itself to you. The next time will be better, in every way. This time wasn't perfect, the perfect hit still hasn't come. I am out to find it, out to get it. It will come one day, it has to. Otherwise life has no meaning, life has no purpose. Well, let me tell you of a big one... Loneliness.

She left at midnight. The egyptian guy still swept the room, looking for some time for himself. And you know what? He got it. I am out.

Produly I wake up in the bar. To not drink and still be welcome there, it is a bluff. It is a try. A mere attempt. Here went nothing. He spotted me in a flash. Started to weave towards me with the smallest of efforts. Eventually we collided. Everything changed from then on. Like it always does.