|
...And in poor seconds, the filthy figures surrounding become obstacles.... |
|
Smell of acid thoughts. |
|
Intoxicated eyes, |
|
Madly, Are you searching for the obscure calm, |
|
But the partial blindness doesn't relieve, |
|
And viscid words are shoves to the fury |
|
My hostile guide. |
|
Memories contribute to mental fall, |
|
Skin refuses to feel. |
|
Hide my mind |
|
From the unconscious desire |
|
Of wound, deep wound. |
|
I drag between a liquid grey and the hole. |
|
Intoxicated eyes, |
|
Madly, Are you searching for the obscure calm, |
|
But the partial blindness doesn't relieve, |
|
And viscid words are shoves to the fury |
|
My hostile guide. |
|
No way, By now, there's no way, |
|
And I spit on these ruins. |
|
What silliness.... |
|
Quiet |
