it was on a cold August morning
When I was returning from Bucharest
to my hometown
and after arrival
at 7 AM
I spent a little time in the train station
I smoked a cigar and drank a cup of coffee
walking around and puffing
through misgrown flesh-like advents
destiny stalkers
hearses having pale on pale disscusions
fingers hollowing a beautiful child
stifled, chewed into oblivion
one of them smiled
and said
give me so I can be
I was puffing and mumbling
and watching
then it was certain
that we were all in a cell
where others devoured a heaven sent protein
amongst mills where the brightest ones
were grinding up their ardors
for the good of filth
I heard nothing but
silence like drops of rain
on the roofs of their inner wars
and the need of liberation
was crawling at the bottom
it was beyondness as a whore
sipping from the eves.
