code: c10h14n2-420

tonight i walk the street populated with abandoned mattresses.

i am a child walking on this street littered with torn pages of glossy porn magazines. after a few monotonous howls from the wind, you see cunts lying on the ground, dust squatting on bare breasts and lots of immobile lips kissing dirt.

a heavy shroud of mist embraces the street with its icy arms. one of the things you can’t control on this earth. the 90:10 ratio.

since my college sociology professor introduced the 90:10 ratio, it never escaped my mind. ever. he said that in our lives, we only have 10% control of things and the remaining 90% goes to that big bulk that escapes our default human nature and desire to have control.

the 90:10 ratio. the fucking 90:10 ratio.

this is what haunts you if you have no shoes.

code: c10h14n2-420. aka code noshoes.

noshoes. no shoes. noshoes.

noshoes- it’s what i feel the moment i tread the vast vivid verdant plain.


there is grass everywhere.



it's everywhere. it grows on pussies, on assholes, dick holes, on sleepy eyesockets, on nostrils, on armpits, on pores, on crevices, on cracks, on shadows, on holes, on kitchen exhausts, on cars, on buildings, on windows, on expensive ice creams consumed by the sons and daughters of the capitalist nations, on beats earphones, on regular chinatown counterfeit headsets, on your chicken, yes- on your kfc chicken, on the kitchen sink, on pots, on pans, on plates, on bowls, on your concert ticket, on plane turbines, on busses, on railroad tracks, on the metro train, on theme parks, on your chest, on your heart deprived with rest, on your mind, oh yes-on your mind you can definitely find a vast carpet of verdant grass. vivid. green as hope. green as a go signal.


i try to make sense of the semiotics behind all the elements around me.


there are papers scattered on the ground. there are papers with some random notes on the ground.

paper 1: promises usually turn to half baked realities

paper 2: aerosol can of a heart

paper 3: i wish i could live like a kid from the old 90s movies. carpe diem. doesn’t give a fuck to the world. can smoke, drink and take whatever i want, not caring whether i die young or not. if only i could die young. if only i don’t care. if only i don’t give a damn. yeah. damn.

paper 4: “you live in a city, not in a cave. so when you scream, expect no echo in return. expect no echo in return.”

there are more but 4 is enough to spark a revolution of the senses.

another 90:10.

on the other hand, i also remember what mr college sociology professor said: the ratio can be overturned, if you know how to. smart planning, a strong power of will, and some drops of creativity can change your game.

let’s say you don’t like a particular class because your professor is boring. mr college sociology professor said that you don’t have to dwell on the professor to get the most out of your class. find something entertaining, something interesting about the situation and make it work your way. in doing so, you’re like overturning the 90:10 ratio.


tonight provides too much pins and needles for a barefoot illegitimate child of this street.


tonight i walk the vast, vivid, verdant plain populated with abandoned notes.

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