Poezja

How will you be defining
a war, when you
meet without machetes?

Between real and fiction
lies a deficient bridge.
We will go for a walk to find―
the weak spots.

A dead city moves in its
entirety. You prepare yourself
to read the tea leaves.

The dregs were in power.
Why you were becoming schizophrenic?
Do not blow at the dead sparks.

How long the shadow now
you want to throw?