21 stycznia 2018
On The Brink
I was trying to communicate
the poverty of words.
We were moving in circles.
Dark figures-
afraid of each other.
What was a shame -
in restraints
of narcissism? You are
not going to take a dip
in opaque waters.
A conceptual withdrawl
from the acrimony of hills.
Night was very cool but
moon will not come down
and grass will not go up.
I will never be generous
in jokes of a monstrous
nose. The stink was awful
but roses were white and
the meaning had no confines.
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absynt
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