Posted by: bogpan | януари 24, 2018

Dominant feeling

„Live forever lost
the dead path
and stand alone “

S. Quasimodo

Believe me
I know the dead
don’t come back and never
have gone
stuck into my bone.
I’m in mourning like a night
and shaking like a gulf.
But the home is cracking…
My breath turns into
salt on the glasses.
No choice.
It seems to see a finding
path into the odium – a lonely one.
A road of circles,
Forget about your eyes.
They see images passed
and flights.
With the wings of dead.
They won’t wake up
the little boy who fell asleep
washed in heavens.

The dead people choose.



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