Drop Me In The Tejo

Lockdown number two.

Really? I did not come here to survive; I know how to do that. What about life?

The kebab did the one euro job. Make me human again. Now, where’s the other one?

Too much of nothing. If you take me hostage for 0,2% of the population I am going to start killing some people, the thing you are so afraid of.

Not that I want to go back to normal life — I don’t belong there. Just don’t tell me what to do and for sure do not tell me what I must not do. You might get hurt.

People are losing the point. The whole world is under hypnosis. Nobody is interested in data. I kept my mouth shut for months but diarrhea has to come out at some point.

Everybody is afraid of dying, yet nobody lives. I am the king of pain. I feel. I hurt. I suffer. I breathe the air. I want to slap somebody; check if there is still blood to be spilled.

Open your heart, stranger. Make sweet love to me. Drop your mask and gloves. I want to know who you are.

Now give me something, give me anything. Or I will take it.

Enough.