23.11.1992. ap 552
I’m still lying down, the ceiling does not move,
inside me moans grained and chained -
it’s warm , it’s soft and hunger is diminished,
-if there are no memories it would be comfortable.
I snooze on an empty dream, noon drews near,
clock is still clattering, grinds in empty;
empty are lies, empty are all people
that used to be my so called friends.
I cover my ears but sleep does not come,
voices of silence are ringing from inside;
in my head "today" does not come easy -
because I am yesterday- perhaps tomorrow.
still lying down, the ceiling does not move,
and huskies of pain a bit on the past;
-copper horse, VW and my Muzzly
all of mine, all of mine
Is stamped into my brain