Black old Death
It smells like
mold here
My unrestless thin fingers
Carved
through my skin
With
swiveling eyes in fear.
Perhaps I
didn’t care
For the
burning body
That alone
left its soul
Lied in the
misty despair.
It took a
long while
Until the
black cloak
Covered my
sight
As
concealing my smile.
Patiently
felt my bones to walk
And shacked
up the dust
Brought
from the deep
Where
voices slept scream and talk
Who was
that unknown shadow?
The worst
seek nightmare?
Or merely a
passenger fellow?
That simply
stood and stare.
I flew over
and around
Felt
against my face a breeze
And drops
of blood I found
They were
thoughts I squeeze
From a cold
freezing night
That
insisted to come in a dream
At the dawn
over the light
As a black
mask in Venice stream.
Through
such oil dark paint
I let it
join and sing for me
For
nothing: just sound and faint
As an owl, I
waited and intent see.
