I lost my mind in Yangshuo.

I forgot my better senses, 

As commercial traffic bulged, 

And came down upon my vulnerable mind, 

Like a metamorphic bubbling of boiling rock.

Shattered, the shards flew, 

And all the horrific consequences.

The fantasies that I had fed on, 

Rebuffed so ferociously, 

By street-hawkers, 


Selling themselves for some, 

small pittance, 

At the expense of a poor fool, 

Like me, 

Alone in this fucking country. 


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