Inner Rose

Stop my friend,

Stop,

You are pathetic,

Your skin is pink

There is a rest smile on your face

Your ears are butterflies,

Is that really you?

There is a lot of everything,

Thousands of poems,

Of tangled hands,

Children,

Children born every day

From a huge print machine.

All those thoughts

Fall on me, as a town,

Each idea is a building,

Ten families in each flat,

Five people in each family,

A million memories in each one's mind,

Oh friend,

All of this fall on me,

Like an eternal rain,

With your voice,

Whispering to me.

When last spring came,

I asked you:

Why there is a black point on the horizon?

You laugh,

That filled me with emptiness,

Our bed turned to old woman skin,

A long black river

Run between us,

Filled everything,

My mouth,

The old woman skin,

It abolished the shadows,

And you kept laughing,

I screamed:

You are a shadow,

Nothing but a shadow,

A parasite, an owed to the light

Your head is ashtray,

Your ears are clef,

A collect of scrap.

But you ignored me,

Putting a rose

In eyes of a one-eyed dog.