Cross eyed at streetlights,
Accidental smoke rings,
silver coins filling pockets,
whilst rosé tinted vision lines eye sockets,
cobbled stone stabbing at heeled feet,
like the reverse of Excalibur out of rock,
cats out of bushes, and stone tortoises,
animals stalking our path,
whilst we sink into mud ridden fields,
conversing about the downfall of society,
i stare at a star, looking like i have cataracts,
then clouds, like smoke enveloping a fur coat,
do too over the brightness of such,
comparing acquaintances to failed musicians,
and how events unfold,
with unfortunate consequences,
due to the overwhelming naivety that some possess,
blunt commentary and cigarettes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem