Too often I stumble.
Too often a
helix hangs heavily in the air
I breathe.
Yesterday I
was two cloves of crushed garlic.
Two days ago
on the perpetual snowline I stood.
Today I am a
shriveled beetle or
The beaten snake
is me.
Now and then
I stand with an unlit candle.
Without
knocking darkness sneaks and extinguishes my lighted window.
I am afraid
I have to make a monster smile tomorrow!
I will fear a melted sun two days later…
But all
these whisper to me;
“But one
thing is for sure…
One day you will buy the sky
And create a
comedy with Shakespeare!”
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