Summer Love

Summers are fun. Even in a God damn third world country. You are sweating down your ass. And no amount of cocaine or good music can give you peace. You need shade. You need love-yah. You think you got game. You are foolish. You are a self-loathing individual suffering from arrogance. That’s how people come these days. They come in shiny attractive boxes. Low quality and huge price tags. There is no fucking consistency in the production line.

Driving around town in your old car with a half-smoked cigarette, you realize many things. Some are good and some are bad. But every realization takes you one step closer to your goal. You are hungry for something. You are hungry for love-yah. Hunger only grows. You are an animal. You want to rape and molest the world; over and over again. This is who you think you are. But you are not that. You are worse. Much worse.

And after a while... you stop giving a fuck. You know. Things run smooth sometimes. There are no speed breakers on the highway. But not everybody is driving the fast lane. There are snails in the race. Snails that you can nail. And rabbits too. Never miss a good fuck if it comes to you. But you still miss it. Coz you need love-yah. You ain’t no fucking sex monger. You want purity. You want something real.

Summers pass and you quietly retreat to your hideout. A stack full of cheap Murree beer and 70s blues records. That’s all you need.  You need love-yah. Don’t ya?