to escape
asphyxiation
i open
one of the windows
of this lonely house
and wear
my self-made gossamer
wings
i do not land
i skip from sky to
sky
drift on clouds from
nine to ten
i try burning my
skin with the
sun's terms of warm
endearment
it will be a whole
day affair
i speak to no one
and no one speaks to me
so many
so many words trickle like sunshine
in my hair
thoughts of you caress me all over
like a flood of light
on the grasslands
when the day is over
i go back to my room and
lay my self on the floor as i hang my
wings on the ceiling
i repeat this all day on the other days of my life
and so i am not destroyed by the harsh forces around me
the daily escapades and isolation make me live
despite the fact that loneliness is my only bread
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Indeed loneliness is a concoction, well done here Mr Bastasa