автор: yd

My balcony is not my vision:
Furnished with plastic,
Artificial,
Sprinkled by withered leaves...
There are no stars
To inspire,
No air
To breathe.
My compamion is
The naked tree that
Reaches the top floor and
Threatens to hurt me.

My comforter -
A miasma that
Embraces me in its warmth and
Protects.

Buildings stand pitifully
Fammilies share footage
Dark colours flow into colour
That obscures me into dizziness.

men walk out
forever
marching readily tuned
shorting steps
to turn rigt
right at the alley
to seize the green light,
to board an earlier train,
to fly to wherever
be able
to dissape'r