(days in which we collide, but in which, as frames from the wrong movie, we get alienated, we pass one another)

 

We throw away time like it bears no meaning
We let the rain wash off
Approximate sins daily as we go on
With our game – you started it!

 

These nights get their warmth from the last of the fires
Vernal paganism and neoplastic nerves
– old journals, the scent of unheard tales

 

Under the street pines you can hear the wind rustling,
You’d want the drain the marrow out of air’s ribs

 

Our interest is exclusive,
Our attention – shocking
The desire to change something – Hurry up!

 

We throw hope in the maze of despair
Then squeal like white mice stuck in bitterness
Like most beautiful animals do, we beg to have our fur stripped

All while feeling the flaying an inch at a time

 

The next day we wake up
With coffee consoling us
That at the bottom of the mug

Someone’s put poison
To make our day shorter
And wherever we may go, we’ll be
Welcomed with cake

We invest in the wrong sighs,
We are all a ‘but’ in the wrong theater.

 

We lose what little we have
From what we’re not enough
To purchase more often:

Time, patience, gazes, warmth and smiles

Constant (re)appearing
Heavenly, otherworldly delights

A trap is every attempt to close the door
You’ve never opened before

 

We’re miniscule souls, specks of dust lost in the cosmos
Dreaming of the grand gardeners’ magical gardens
Yet we never seem to plow in our own
We’re nowhere near producing food
Yet we’re considering flowers

 

We miss the busses
And pay through the nose for taxis
We forget our phones on the seats
And let our dreams be eaten

And in the end we get fevers
And inner cold sores of the soul
And the odd anthill in our weakness

Which,
Again pollutes our joy.