sniffing wind

oh my heart why art thee weak
oh my heart how deep are thy wounds
thou who thought that love was life
thou who thought that love never dies
(Kari Rueslatten)

the preaching circus most unreal
i left some other day
i hoped my wounds would never heal –
they didn’t. they are – away.
the soul is left somewhere in the dark
to weep and stay awake
my heart was not an easy mark
with sanity at stake
i slept and healed, or so i thought
the walls were covered with vomited love
the poisoned air so carefully wrought
the icy wind so far above
the walls i moved were hard as stone
but nonetheless alive
i left and left the soul alone
to whimper and to dive
the pools of deepest grief and down
and down, deep down below
where healing icy wind has blown
of which he did not know
i seek its presence somewhere there
i’m lost and she’s confused
my corpse still vomits love. i spare
a barely burning fuse
i find my comfort just like me –
by walls of smoking ground
where vomiting love doesn’t hurt like he
i kneel – there’s not a sound.

(9 ноября 2002, 5:55)