Faint voices coming from the corridor
and a blue light shining on a man…
the illusion, the poet, the sailor of the boat of the romantic and broken figures.
He is seeing the moon and he is thinking about the legs of the whore; he has fucked the previous night in his starvation.
His shadows break at midnight and they pierce the walls of intuitions and ideas…
The music flows like a raw afternoon and the possessions get soften…the crying through nothing,
the void,
the celebration of a lingering homelessness.
There is always an ending,
an instant…
and the man hopes to find a companion for his isolation
and perhaps one day he will be able to tell that it was all just about living.
He drinks and he hums a song about a fishnet in an ocean…
The blue light still shines bright like a freezing death.
…………………………………………………………….
Photograph: Elena Theodorou.
I liked this so much I shared this on my blog. I hope you don’t mind!
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No no it’s okay.
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This is the life many think they dream. And for most, it is the dream some must live. Nicely presented.
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Thank you…
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You are welcome.
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I love the way you tied the end back to the beginning–beautiful.
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☺️☺️
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