15.01.2010
This boy behind a mirror looks like you. He has the same type and size of leg. He loudly breathes out air and he likes to go for a walk in the rain. Yesterday in TV-show he won a smile. Now a day after day he sews the buttons to the overcoat. He is surprised how it is possible to be such blind. I write down his yet child's ideas in a tiny notebook. I outline an important dates by the pencil and I forget to wake up more early.
Do you know how hard to slide when you are full of pain and every filament is crying? The heart is strained on the leash, scratches into the door and whines to urinate. You my little boy are busy at work, but I want that a film in my head had been seen. I despair. You take no notice. In these windows there always are people. I'm looking on their beauty, while you vomit in a rest room. And I wipe your tender lips. My lips a long ago became weather-beaten. People are tormented by hunger. They are zombies and suffer from indigestion. They have needed for themselves too much attention, they would not have it. A boy laughs and turns the pointers of clock. I am sad, that a headlights like moths already on a roadway and they return into the flats. Morning with the second number is always crying.
Tomorrow comes foolishly, your smile is stolen, and lazy fingers are on a table. I look at a photo. OUT OF BUSINESS. Your good mood is empty. The winter is empty of love and I melt cigarettes in the puddles of steel coffee. I press RETURN, and you on a record. You so serious and young. But I sleep in motion and I do not notice thousand stars on sky. And you still live in my head, you play in black and white and come to me by a Fridays.
