i feel like empty silence.
i feel like the space,
if the universe missed,
like falling through nothing.
in the end,
slowly sinking
to the bottom of cold,
dark water.
i can feel the frost
filling up my lungs,
eating my flesh;
as i open my aching eyelids,
i see no light.
i feel like death.
YOU ARE READING
Trash of the Soul
Poetryversi liberi perché i sentimenti non si ordinano e foto di piccioni che vedo per la strada, solitamente morti.
