terça-feira, 7 de junho de 2016

A crumb on a sour night

Dropped by the night a crumb on the floor
On the hard mercilessly chilled floor
Bacteria in the hundreds joined me
the ones with antenas and claws

They rustled in the dust
As I tried to find a crumb to hide in and eat myself to sleep
Footsteps above like earthquakes
and creaking foundations at all hours

Among the crud the loose fallen hair
Where was i to find my abode
A sacred place where I could drop the sword
and feel the spirit of living instead of feed the growing wars

But no, here I go smaller than a flea
crawling in the cracks in the road from street trees
Dropped by a sour night as if I was something
as foul as the darkness

Yes i was a drop of poison
falling from the cyanide cap
bristling droplets of my syrup green back
as I explode upon the concrete

I came to and searched the world for shelter
None the sour night could offer

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