'Streets are uneven when you're down' ...
Hard Times
A bright sun-lit day --
yesterday's clouds, rain and frost have retreated
merely leaving mud-strains on stone.
Jolly Christmas-crowd has filled the plaza;
warm smell of potato fries
makes you forget about worries
for momentary pleasure of palate.
I'm standing at corner
lonely, gloomy --
my gaze floats around clear blue-sky
vainly trying to gauge emptiness of existence.
A cigarette slowly burns between fingers
warning me about delicate distance between
life and ashes !
All smiling faces melt into single chaos,
mud on the ground feels irritating and sun -- a hoax
to be forgotten few hours afterwards.
Life has engulfed me.
I am stuck inside a dark, endless tunnel
unable to differentiate reality from probability,
satisfying its insatiable palate.
Non-existent colours of sky
remind me, there'll be no Santa this time !
To be or not to be ...
Hard Times
A bright sun-lit day --
yesterday's clouds, rain and frost have retreated
merely leaving mud-strains on stone.
Jolly Christmas-crowd has filled the plaza;
warm smell of potato fries
makes you forget about worries
for momentary pleasure of palate.
I'm standing at corner
lonely, gloomy --
my gaze floats around clear blue-sky
vainly trying to gauge emptiness of existence.
A cigarette slowly burns between fingers
warning me about delicate distance between
life and ashes !
All smiling faces melt into single chaos,
mud on the ground feels irritating and sun -- a hoax
to be forgotten few hours afterwards.
Life has engulfed me.
I am stuck inside a dark, endless tunnel
unable to differentiate reality from probability,
satisfying its insatiable palate.
Non-existent colours of sky
remind me, there'll be no Santa this time !
To be or not to be ...
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