Τρίτη, 20 Μαρτίου 2012

the sun of each day tightens the rope around my neck
and I, I have to confess that i have been bathed in cowardice and that all that I know is weakness
and say out loud for the leaves to listen, that I am unworthy
hey,
how do the gallows sound for dinner ?

we are not to be hanged, do not fret dear,
we have the luxury of new age powder.

Only now I realise I have been ashamed of my skin for all time, and all the pretentious sentences and all the wasted brain cells have been a comfortable bittersweet nothing. My masked expressions and careful words shall always care to protect me even though now I really shouldn’t step aside.
Fire, the dammed know their essence.
The most unfaithful of all tears can come whenever they may; I see no reason in searching for the right words anymore.



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