Cosmic.
An evening rises like a salsa dancer;
A soul feels confined in its box-like corps.
The moonlight sweeps the shadows of life,
Like cancer
While hope finds his lover, and elopes.
An unmet desire, rises again
And angels, find their way away of depression, and pain.
Some sleeping pills fill the gap
And change the eluding angel, into a brave chap.
In my dream, where something is possible,
Where lust grows dim, and the voice becomes audible,
I thread my way amid the frost inside her body,
And I start to speak.
Speaking, and speaking
Not to the flesh that covers her bone
Not to the brain in her tombstone
Not to the heart
Not to her,
But to something
that keeps dragging me down
in the bottomless lethe.
The nadir feels grim
And this blackness will alter
Into a god, that someday, will falter.