Confused, this tilted ground gives way
through disgust, through disillusion
these delusions I have given away.
You look at the pages
try to guess the chapters
then it faces a sharp re-write
and your staring over an unfamiliar city walking to a destination out of sight.
A phone call forms the fragments of another era
the pages are torn
I used to have faith a god was listening
the perfect sadness when there is no floor to fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem