Poezja

No ending of the story. The loose thread hangs. 
Journey again starts at the termination. 
The smell is something of enigma. 
I am again dissecting the body of a stale corpse. 
 
Fever is rising with jokes Thin sheet covers 
the ugly face with blisters. 
A disconcerned person burns the phosphorus. 
 
The darkness creates the ghosts of history, 
two thousand years of knowledge. 
Still the niceties of culture are to e observed 
and firework started 
to celebrate the end of an era.