At the coffee place

When life of mine leaves much to be desired
And its white stripes turn out to be black
And deep inside there is a bleeding crack
I force myself to stay alive and open-eyed
Despite the complicated growing ache...

As pale as moon I look into my cup of coffee,
Dark surface glitters, still reminding past,
And memories are clear at last,
But being so neglected and unworthy
They are  the only thing I dare to trust....

Sitting at the coffee house as usual,
Watching the waitresses appearing with the trays,
I merely  put on a smile on my face
As I don`t want to share my confusion
With this twilight half-crowded quiet place...

The silver fog caused by the tempted smokers
Invades my artificial hand-made soul
Corroding one more sharp-lipped hole,
But I`m alive and I can focus
On things hidden behind the mental walls...

The visitors I watch are sitting in the leather armchairs,
Creating the illusion of the wealth and fame,
But their dim sights`re seeking somebody to blame
For their secretive unbearable fears...
The are as dead,as lost,as broken as I am...

Sometimes beyond the notes there is no music,
Sometimes there is no sense beyond the words...
In silense I behold the selfish lords
And come to violent conclusion:
Dead man can breath,can speak,dead man can walk...

Kissed,but not loved,I swallow the black liquid
I can`t explain whether it`s hot or cold,
And dead inside I`m still a part of living world...
With bitter smile I realize the secret:
Dead man can live despite the will of God...