Lines Of Absurdity 5 Poem by George Tzouvaras

In moments that all paths look the same, there are words, phrases, which flow in a trouble surface full of admissions.

The take offs are the same and not as a continue of older terminations.

Breaking to pieces thoughts born by misty minds, by mean situations and by the need of encryption.

You gave variation to your face, and you let your self let go to the trip for a while.

You found what you were looking for but you didn’t touch it.

You let your glance to fall into the void.

The void is creepy. Its yours. You know it. You are not afraid of it.

The fear. The magic word about variation and encryption.

I knew the pain. I am not afraid of it. I am scared by their phobias.

The noon of the dead hour. It's the hour that the only thing that has to show us is, self sarcasm, bitterness, irony.

You look around you. There are hackneyed corridors.

The film is already played so many times before. Its version is a modern one. So are the feelings.

You welcome their needs. But please shut your ears to their sounds.
They cant compose any melody.

The curtains has been drawn. The spectacle ends here.

I don't like your nakedness

My road is waiting for me to continue. My voice waits to climb in higher walls. In walls higher than those you build your dreams.

There is something in civilization that can kill everything in its pass by.
Variation and encryption.

I ve got a different road to walk.