Rough Papers


Last words, your house, a rational fortress, are entwined with silence, as if the ivy both with

the  sun and rain made profit for the glory, as if the  life hasn’t passed another side, but by

the sleep, by the superstition of the past years with such rapidity of breath without name or

father’s name, with one alarming ah! Who was taught, let say goodbye, indifference has no

idols, there is a room with no exit and entrance, and its walls aren’t painted white color, rather 
no, more likely foggy color, and the suffocating emptiness suits your breath,and the room

and body, is swaying, like a dandelion in the wind. Behind  the length of minutes both the

time and separation are hiding, it’s accomplished in the caressed  tiredness of nights, in the 
incomprehensibility, lack of will, we need only a point, your eyes by the pupils of commas

don’t  make  the  reality  slow,  but  extend,  and  breathing of  unspoken  words  becomes

a stumbling block, as an accomplished fact, as a subject, standing at the entrance to the

door of predicate events. And the unprecedented anguish, it had been here before, but who

perceived it seriously,  at that time we were just mistaken and took its majesty  Queen of

emptiness  like  the  spineless sadness.  People come and go,  and the abyss  is  widening,

growing, pulling as a magnet and there is a wish to disrupt before the deadline, before the

eternal predictability, such as you, but only still standing on my feet with a vigorous posture.

The elusive smile, like a shadow, walked through the children’s face, sorry, in your dream

you played and forgot, you are unaware that it’s forever, because the pain, like a ball, barely 
throw – it falls to the ground.