The Song
The night is late - harsh 'nd sober are my thoughts
And I can't sleep - my mind is spreading gloom
In pale whiteness of the slow Moon.
My inner space - my eye cores she attacks...
Bleach light of her corrodes out the locks,
And sleepy golden leafs - their choir songs -
Drives down dusty falling stone blocks.
The city's drunk takes breath of fossil ply,
Caged in the jabs of sharpened snow flakes -
The night is flooding street-like narrow lakes:
Fatigue intrigues - the plastic bodies die.
My solitude is following the night,
My paws are cutting flesh - a heavy strain -
I'm cooking porridge bitter with seen eyes
From pages of my bloody viscous brain.
I'm eating it and with my greedy lips
My story's cut from being very long.
I'm crossing - being totally alone -
The planet to which You and I belong.
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