If I Might Say...

Few years back we went Darwin over night for stopover before heading off outback, the enchanting Kakadu etc. Early morning I ran through city street for my ritual of high, I saw a flock of young aborigines at the park, each held bottles inside plastic bags and straight into their face, yes they were sniffing their bottle for morning high I was at the runners high and people in the street café they had caffeine high. Different types of sniffing. My lung was sniffing fresh air their lung were sniffing petrol, culture or something. It was a glorious day, sun stretched alongside oblivion of flowers blooms seascapes, so stark contrasted existent without accidental guilty. Drilleded I cursed at the water stream during the running “fucking fucking…” but I didn’t know why. Their skinny black crowed hands and their plastic bags imprinted bluest memories in a sky. I have no means patronizing their right and lifestyle. Many people doing it all over the world, all sort of drug available openly or under shade. But they do it in privative. Why than aborigines do their sniffing so openly? That was (is) my question. Today I saw two guys held their spread painting bottles in plastics bags and sniffing flight daylight. Lots of people were watching their sniffing and shake their heads, people avoid them like plagues. Their haggard dark faces held eyeballs hundred miles away for haze swinging. Their lofty bubble gum consciousness undirected above the long-legged street pavement. I asked myself, are they abandoning anything? Brutally opportunistic way, demi-godly demonized fragmentary brilliance! Demolished and displayed an installment of their probable speculation in a daylight? That is right we are aborigines what can you do about it! All you scumbag arssholes bitches get off my land! Their haze shouting were clear perfectly contorted and a dagger straight into your heart. The previous was sad bunch and later one was nerve-breaking eyeball basing exhibitionist. If I might say…