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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2015-12-30 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
You may help yourself from my brain
share the same synapses the same shell of uncertainty my truth increasingly acidic indigestible if the last truth is the first that matters is it livable at the end of all this burst how come the wind is blowing in this nonsense of too-late how come the wind is howling through this shaky unclosed gate when we can`t forget we will pass away then we do forget to live for today as rolling eyes miss flying birds we miss suspended floating words parentheses opened in vain but still I know these lines remain ashes of a poem yet unfinished a song yet unembodied into cell {This is a brace in the infinite [I don`t know why we`re waiting for the spell of an evershining sun (when everlastingness has already begun)]}
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