Poezja

The waves
had brought me to you.
Do not be gentle to time.

Lower the songs
into a mass grave,
as the violence spreads.

This time-travel
will take you to panic attacks.
Blackness moves very fast.

Hypoxia.
Photons will take you
to fading sun.

Glitterati,
now hurts. You cannot
haul the gift of reeds.