Moth ate the asphalt on my street
I’m lying crushed in remains of the road
Hey there.
Hey, look. Stroke it . Yes, this is a tame chestnut.
It sprouts into the most cheerless only.
So you have nothing to be afraid of.
‘Cause you are a street lamp.
You’re standing alone, you’re crumbling away into the garbage can...
You know, frequently I have dreams about scents of frozen fingers
Locked in cracks under the banisters.
They slide on rough wood
Getting splinters
And crackling with them at the time of thunderstorm.
Once I heard that with bits of truth we knock colours out of life
Colours crave for interlacements.
As a matter of fact, not so rusty as you got.
The road disappeared. Moth, you know..
On the roadside there are so many vagrant empty shoes.
Could you cure it as you’ve cured me once.
Oh but what’s going on?
Sand is shuffling upon the skin.
It looks like sand wants to commune with us.
We are as sandy as it gets, my dear street lamp.
We’ll have to stay here for a couple of Julies.
Hey, where did you go?
It’s gone, sand poured away.
Let us fly away as well.
fields..fields..
ears..
fields..
fields.. poppies..
fields..
polar bear
A polar bear!
..
Hungry? Flights are exhausting, aren't they?
Well, let’s rub with the eye stuffing
heels hair nails
And let them march into the stomach
To bring discord.
Hey, street lamp, you seem to have as interlayed nerves as I got,
Interlayed over expectation.
In the corners of the mouth nerves come out
And tie up the tongue.
I’m silent.
But still, we keep breathing out the dreams.
