On my street, i live an apartment complex with ducks and trees and cars and the sound of water from the fountain, the sound of footsteps from the neighbors. the distorted muttering of children playing outside in a foriegn language and i see all these things outside from the balcony. i see all this , the trees, the water, the ducks, the moon, the sky, th gentle blowing winds that pass almost throught me. as if i weren't in existance. i see abd think all of this, and the smell. the smell of the pine from the trees, that smell of certainty that after months of sun, the smell of fresh rain, and then... the CURRY! i smell the neutral curry, powerful, potent, that reminds me of the horrible curry stench at the laundry mat, the rancid curry smell of the food cabinets when i 1st moved in, the stomach turing deliverence and overwhelming stenching abyss. i have nothing against the pakistan people that much, but the smell i start pondering thoughts of paranoia, maybe it was a scam. a conspiracy. they will take over our countryone by one...creating curry stenchto drive out the americans. maybe they have an underground revolution, meetings in parkling lots outside at night, mabe thats why at 12:00 pm at night they all come home and are loud, all laughing and yelling at each other. or maybe the reason i amparanoid is because of the curry spices in the air, maybe they are buring certain substances that lower our moral compass and combat readiness, and then make us pacifists. or maybe not. i know most of them are here on company VISA's. but why just indians... why not asians or mexicans or africans, why are most of them indians...these thoughts, all of these thoughts rush me at full speed all the time. in my sleep, my dreams, my showers. even when i am awake. and in the morning, when i awake from heaven, when my mother grabs me by the leash, yanks me back into the firey buring relentless hell-hole called life. yanks me by the feet and grabs me and yanks me out of bliss, the bliss which i cannot define in one word. i float in a cloud of bliss in heaven with god himself. untill she comes, she, the destroyer of sleep, and takes me back, i struggle and try grabbing onto the pearly white gates of heavenly sleep while she drags me into the pits of hell. and i try to resist, and and the heaven, the bliss the sleep of it all, slips away from me as i am grabbed y the clutches of peril and relentless torture, all slides away from underme, caught in the undertow of hell, swept back into the ocean of the ipedimy of neverendingspawning pandemonium and destruction. i crave respite, i crave defeat, i crave 5 more minutes of beautiful sleep, on my beautiful street.
