my debts

Sometimes I wish

To stop writing ‘something like a poetry’

And write a real poem one day

Tear it up in pieces as soon as I finish

Let the chaos rein, topple the known check boxes

New sunrise at the canvas of horizon

Smell of nicotine and burnt diesel in my lungs

Urban cold carbon

Isn’t it a miracle?

That I still want to be green again!

My cold heart is standstill now

He couldn’t get in the crowded bus

After exhaling the last molecule of air

From my neon-roasted lungs

I wish I could ask you now

How are you?

It makes me feel good

When I imagine

I will get a moist answer in return

Even though it might be

Warmest day of the year

I believe I will feel an urge

To call the moment by name of autumn

I know you cover the sorrow of another man

With your long hair

Still I feel to be live again

When your smile ignite cold fire

In this intolerable time!


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