He ran away from his lungs,
To break his latest fears,
To cover up all his wrongs,
In smoke where he'd never hear.
He was free of all,
But chained to everything,
It was so easy to play ball,
When there was no string,
Or so he though;
The general of the minds;
Solving equations with a cough,
And hunger with vomit signs.
The hero of the block,
The brain of the operation,
He only thought with one thing,
Pressing it to its juvenile destination,
But he was so exalted,
No attachment to gain,
Only cigaretteres to shove in,
And running from lungs to train.
So one day a paper he read,
Made him take a thought,
And he scratched his head,
And gave it one more cough,
"Too much math" he said,
"Not enough laughs" he added,
"Why can't I chuckle" he asked,
"Why am I dying", he lied stranded.
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Spiral Lights: Into the Unknown
Поезія"The healthy dead had once walked alive, only to turn a lifetime into a year. Fitting insanity into a needed tide and loom at its great love to fear. So remember the day, remember the night, Flowing, but lifeless, yet bright. Walking beside you, un...
