quinta-feira, 20 de novembro de 2014

Seed in the summer

I woke in the morning
But the morning didn’t wake in me.
I see the sun shining
But it’s not shining for me.
I feel the refreshing air
Filling the space around
But my lungs now rather smoke cigarettes
I can hear a poem
Knocking on my brain’s door
I invite it to come
Desiring its words, blessed by pleasure
But they only have the manure of daily life
Offered to me as necessary and irrefutable food
And I need to get used to it
       -  to sprout cold and lonely
As a buried seed in the summer.

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