October
Thursday 20 May 2010 photo 1/1
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One day I will wake, my black eyes like asphalt and I will cry tears of tar;
blackened lungs, numbed heart like a bird far from its nest.
I miss the pure air – the noise of people around torments me.
Little by little, the city corrupts this small body of mine,
obstructing my joyous thoughts ‘til the dream dies.
Do you know what I need?
To escape into the mountains, surrounded by tall trees,
I will lay on the moss, and breath in the scent of mushrooms, flowers, and wet soil.
One day I will wake, my black eyes like asphalt and I will cry tears of tar;
blackened lungs, numbed heart like a bird far from its nest.
I miss the pure air – the noise of people around torments me.
Little by little, the city corrupts this small body of mine,
obstructing my joyous thoughts ‘til the dream dies.
Do you know what I need?
To escape into the mountains, surrounded by tall trees,
I will lay on the moss, and breath in the scent of mushrooms, flowers, and wet soil.
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