TIME IS RUNNING OUT

Quick-quick, haul your ass, there's but little time - move as fast as you can, one life to live, dammit!

What about the afterlife? What damn-fool question! I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Besides, I have holy men working on it.

The city smells of shit, the sewer lines overflow, garbage dumps left to rot, putrefaction is the natural course of things. I love the smell of shit in the morning! What apocalypse? The game of life, death, money, power, wanton sexual deviance has just begun. The final whistle will never blow, no one is controlling the whistle.

Cars the size of mountains ply the streets, the roads are too narrow, people jump to the gutters to save the temporal. The people inside the cars don't care, they don't smell the shit, they don't see the overflowing drains, not their problem. Quick-quick, move away, the party has already begun, it's on Facebook, people are typing 140 characters in tweets, no time to waste. The modern 'Bible' calls us to join.

Have to get rich quick-quick; wipe the banks clean, pick all pockets to buy a piece of heaven where the air is not redolent of shit, have to send kids to Ivy leagues, need new parasites, more educated, more adept.

Put the poison in the food, squeeze the fruit to make it ripe, no time to waste, quick-quick, need my BMW yesterday. Squeeze the women to get the last drop of milk, the last drop of blood, need to buy that gold mine in the commercial district. Time is running out.

Have to become ‘Very Important Persons’, VIPs, you dig No time for the ordinary, the extraordinary rule the roost. VIPs can’t mix with the mundane, can’t ride along with them, can’t get stuck in jams: why are we paying the bloody police for? Hey, you men in blue and khaki, wave your red dick, sorry, stick in the air, clear the bloody fools outta my way, pick the wrong way if need be: I am the power that be, goddammit!

No pang of conscience? You and your damn-fool questions. Why else the yearly ablution in the sand? The mullah mutters gibberish and listens to Bacall's advice and blows. What have not - he guarantees only have and have, he leaves with a fat wallet. God helps him blow.

Get out of my way; so little time so much to have, quick-quick, gimme all you got, papa needs a brand new SUV, the craters on the roads keep bothering his diabetes-shrunken ass in his still new BMW sedan.

No, no, no.........no time to waste. Goddammit!

Dhaka, 20th August 2018.