Diaries From Distant Shores I
PART I.
I.
each night...
I think about the moment when we'll vanish
on the doormat of an empty house
because I know some day they will come -
the malignant conquistadors and their moon colored hounds
when this century of the sleepless will come to an end
so I'm trying to unravel the missing monologues
while indulging in many contradictions
stranded on remote beaches
seeking the redemption with sand in my hair
like a famished cormorant rambling the landfill
in a very weird mental state
II.
it's becoming clear...
that time has shunned this godforsaken place
and as I'm following the familiar landmarks
following the strange candlelit pathways
I know that your bedroom is in a saltwater heaven
far away from the angry masses
becalming myself in my transient refuge
while you're deploying your crying talent
we went loose from our moorings and you refused the safety buoy
now tide of our sensations is coming up fast
turning us into these crumpled wrecks
left to rust at the shallow bay
III.
these sleeping islands...
are just relics of my hopes, diaries of fading sunlight
after we carved our scriptures on the dormant rocks
creating museums of our own memories
at the very edge of despair
and I think that we'll never be missed
you, me and my companion of delusions
but remember dear, there are no boundaries
be sure that I'd row my soul over the vast seas
to see you standing on the abandoned shoreline
and our handprints will fossilize in the interim
imprinting the fatal visions to rocky soil
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