trip

Trip to Hospital. A lot of rooms with connections to each others. Waiting, looking at others, reading my Bukowski book. In a trip outside I saw two young girls unspeakably crying. An older man was with them, maybe their father. I immediatly assume that is their father, is the mother dying/dead? How do you manage something like that, in front of one of the hospital corners, surrounded by dark grey walls with water running low on them. A gipsy kind of boy arrives to the e.r. inside a police patrol car, with his face smashed, probably with punches of some arch-enemy. They pass on front of the waiting line, because they're with the police, although he is one of the waiting line's sick persons with the most probability to survive. No one complains, we all understood he's been punched a lot, and maybe he deserved it. Poor fuck with the black clothes' gipsy mother. I saw another guy who's probably been a fight too. He looks like a traditional pimp, grey poneytail and mustache, all jeans, one earing, rip t-shirt, swollen face. Everybody has a bracelet on them, different colors though. I have the yellow one, medium-serious sickness, respiratory sickness, alergic asma. More folks have the yellow brand, we all wait less to be received by the beautiful white doctors, preferable women. Then there are the so so less serious 'sicks', the green ones. This poor fellows wait longer, although I think we all wait to damn long. No matter, we're all going to see the med's Princess together. Saw one blue bracelet, saw no orange ones - the worst kind since they don't wait for nothing, even to die. Everybody wants to been seen, everybody wants to leave. No one can though, not before the white Princess let's them. We all want to breathe better, to live better, but maybe it was easier for us if we just see that we are lucky to breathe bad than to not breathe at all. Fuck it all, a few more or less days, more or less litter made, air spent, people listened, eyes opened. We better go unwilling to cry, unconscious of consciousness, hand raised to the sky, say goodbye to the clouds and trees, kiss all the women of our life, a toast to the remaining fighters, and catch the last train to Xanadu.

I let you with two links. Worth listening.

http://www.myspace.com/jozefaleksanderpedro

http://www.myspace.com/khskhs

am