Will my desire always lead
Towards the plain necessity?
Has the exactness of my will
A shade of some proximity?
Or will my premature demise
Bring you the thought of uselessness?
And you depressed, but mesmerized
Will vanish proud, still meaningless.
You are not beauty, you are pain,
The source of infidelity,
You are the sorrow, the disdain,
My God and my insanity.
Will syringe prick, or endless fear
Accompany my guilty love?
Or will I also disappear
Incapable to rise above
Immutability?
апрель-май 1996
Архангельск
Immutability
© Copyright: Евгений Горчаков, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104031100540
Свидетельство о публикации №104031100540
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