So this is how youth dies in us.
One wrong step after another. Sleepwalking through our days, completely unaware of the love around us. We pass it by. Sometimes without even waving goodbye.
This is how beauty gets ruined in us.
We see the grotesquery of this world and we begin to reflect it.
It`s these dreams of wine on empty stomachs. The little voids within which grow with hope.
I flow through cities buried in fog. To get lost. To lose things. I appear and disappear majestically, like shooting stars across the hallow sky. A wish, never to come true.
On highways, I stare at the lights from cars that carry us to nowhere. I feel like a patient taken to an operation as the world is trying to heal something that I didn`t know its killing me.
But In my arrogant madness, I look good, all dressed in silent despair. The way I smoke on balconies in the cool night air. The way I toast without a word on rooftops. The way I stare from windows without thinking of anything. Or retracing my steps back in time, to the present.
Some tell me that it`s getting darker in Greece. I want to go and see for myself. But I can`t be everywhere. All the time. That`s why I sink in paintings, minutes in a row. That`s why Lately I looked ill. I kept my head against the glass of buses, contemplating the millions of bridges that I`m crossing each second. The thousands of skies on fire that my eyes stole pieces of time from.
But I press on. And I wake up each afternoon, like a moon from the sea. Small and cold. And the world sometimes smiles at my bone-smooth charm.
So that`s what left of me.
A tree in December, dressed in Christmas lights. To hide my hardened body. My broken spirit. My hopeful wait for spring.
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