tar

an eternal leave. though the time have promised to be more than a fall.

the breath behind this wall still struggles. and the day is wider and wider, a continous plain of undressed events.

this island is a butterfly it measures you with the flaps of its wings.

this is it. the edge of the final exchange.

you are loose.

an untied knot in a bigger story.

 

::: a scar :::

burning bridges

so you are burning the bridge with a little, almost tender hope that anybody will notice the gap.

and that the ship, the dull masts of which are towering over the port, will have to sail.

even when there is no other soul left to be spent.

and if it sails it will sail directly into your hollow eyes, the heartless eyes of january’s esperance.

the frosty hours will swallow the cries of reserved perseverance.

and the ruins will mark the path into the moist landscape of the soul.

 

::: a perennial shiver down a spine :::

butterflies

let us meet in some place less fancy. in a hotel on the edge of town. on the horizon of an expectation.

… wait for the landscape to give us its autograph

the story will be told by a madman. it will be an old, simple tale.

"i could be dead now. but i am not"

in case you exist take a picture of me

i am not here to write but to vomit butterflies

when you awoke everything had been broken. you tried to close your eyes again but the light was stronger.

the day has its tenderness unknown to the night

the arrow will reach you in time you will part with time. the hotel room is hazy. no-one is allowed in, no-one is allowed out. the cops will be here soon. there is no mirror to apologize too.

… wait for the dusk to give you its scripture

a shy knock on the door. then the infinite silence prevails. the room is full of butterflies.

wake

::: pattern  :::

in the sense that it makes sense

as you stylishly swallow white mushrooms and watch the dead factories as you shyly lie on your death bed ::: you watch the string of time ::: as it transforms your veins. and as you try to find the road long ago lost in the mirror the death rides its silent horse. the sky churns as the god mispronounces your name. by some uncanny chance, you can finish your book.

::: the zone :::

re-focus

the horizon was hit by some mysterious distortion. you were no longer by my side. the abyss gazed into me.

by that time i led paperless existence. i emerged with darkness and hid from sunlight.

once i had a library. once it was a part of some large equation that would promise me timeless pain if solved.

i had to live through that for several more years. all people i have known changed. i can’t say i missed them. i can’t say i missed anyone at all.

i felt as if i was mocked by some strange algebra of truth all the time. but – in the same time- i have found joy in the dissociative lattices of the universe.

i felt the need to become ubiquitous but chose not to pursue it. still, it was my pattern and it is not easy to escape one’s pattern.

a broken window cried into an empty street. the crowds were bored with the unbearable. then - as if god’s hands clapped - they vanished.

::: as if :::

under the aqueduct of slow time

drink the black liquid and forget, the next swan is coming. get in here, get in me. the trail is almost invisible. the mass of land dies below.

what if my body lost the ability to heal? i open my hand once again. to see the red. to let it mingle with water. the lace in the stream. an appealing image of perishing hope.

the time is a fake being, an artificial monster that keeps returning to you in the anxious laughter of eternity.

is.

the unreliable blood of this universe.

::: just skin :::

extremity

reach your open hands against the solidifying air of future. breathe the denial. swallow all the memories that are not with you anymore. the sun is grey.

who is watching this spectacle? is it the same person that gave you the original poison? who taught the original malice? who collapsed just minutes before you?

more and more of us are rehejcted by violence these days.

this ain’t a planet. this ain’t a planet. this ain’t a planet.

over.

and out.

 

::: ashes :::