It will all
vanish one day,
stone cold
bricks, buildings, roofs,
he used to
look at
for hours
letting
pinching air into his room.
In the
middle of the night
after
drowning his sorrows under the crying shower,
open
window, stars trembling, stiff bones, cloud in his lungs.
Moths and
mosquitos paying a visit
none of
them invited
having a
feast by the cigarette smoke.
Wet hair,
red eyes, runny nose, tears dry.
Builders
long gone
their
creation is here to stay
up till the
first hurricane.
Slowly it’s
not a race.
Not.
Staying
here for hundred years,
cement
running in its veins.
Scratches
on the surface, too deep to be covered
watered by
the rain
new ones
will bloom while
old, once
young and strong, columns break.
Rotten
inside, weak foundation, with no one to fix it.
Falling
with no sound but built accompanied with screaming.
It wasn’t
enough,
his back
pressed against the radiator
watching
the most painful game
trying to
hide the shame of losing with ivy.
Long needle
won’t fix the scars.
Time
claiming what’s his,
with every
breath he takes, collapsing lungs
like
Italian Pompeii taken away into ashes and dust.
Buildings
destroyed within Vesuvius blow,
bones
weaker than bricks, disappeared, turned into Herculaneum’s shadow.
Feeling
like Zeus, though his powers non-existent,
his floor
built on others ossuary,
sleeping
all tight during the longest night.
Retracing
the touch, making it last
knowing so
well – no one can bring it back.
Dancing in
the moonlight, the loneliest dance of all,
among
others like a hostage, caught up with his ball and chain,
still
playing the game.
Making a
gallery of unfamiliar faces of people he knows,
nailing new
pictures to the wall.
Does one
live if it doesn’t hurt?
While
waiting for someone with hours passing by,
lost enough
time hating the sunshine.
Again.
Trying to
find a new place he can call home,
the other
long gone,
falling
under the spell casted by time.
How they
keep on breathing?
Dancing
among the dead,
cold hearts
mad of bricks still beating all alone.
They will
be all gone in the end.
Chimneys
can’t stop.
Choking on
a cigarette smoke.
But it’s
okay if he is breathing just fine.
Raised from
the ground only to stop existing one day,
undergoing
the test of time
like
buildings collapsing
turning
into ashes
we will all
vanish,
vanish,
vanitas.
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