Poezie
I’m not a shell
1 min lectură·
Mediu
silence is the snake hole
where I try to breathe
when you’re obsessed by height
during nights
my chest opens
smelling of black hole
rising angry the forehead
you grab a hammer
and break the moon
from a generous tendency
trying instantly
a fugitive caress
you know those days blacker than the nights
from a heap of consciousness’ remains
anguish extends itself as an infection
it’s no need to draw near
if you want to hear
from a congenital curiosity the mourning
of which sea roaring within my heart?
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