Your desk


Your Desk



You submit me

Your dreams- your nightmares

And don’t care

How heavy are – your hands

Saturated with words – dark, bitter, vague.


My veins – empty of chlorophylls

And spring a remote dream

Evaporated from my flesh.




When you open the window

Among the roar of thousands monsters

Crashing my nerves

A breeze peers into the room

Caressing my skin


The breeze mixing with your words

Reviving the greenness of a flourishing forest

In my dusty memories

And I feel your words

Tasting of a your memories

Lost in a remote corner of the world.



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