I wish I could find the lost time
that would lead me
to your used dreams.

I try with all my strength
to feel the indifference
of signposts.

My body, abandoned to fate
in the fifth corner of the clock,
today collides
with next year's illusion,
for which I will not be able
to be reborn.

There is little enough time left
to put a juicy dot
and start another farewell letter.

I will find in you that despised
morning that took away
my deadly future.
Perhaps one evening
I will understand
the power
of your recalcitrant distance.

I will write a poem on your back
that will not scare this year's
tears away.

I am the silence
which prays to your words.

I try to find the silence
that will bring me the ballad
sung by your heart.

I try to reach the very beginning
of this poem, although I know
that it does not face me
with a smile.

I do not know how many light years
it will take me to find
your tenderness,
the wind that scatters
your pale memories.

I want to immerse myself
in the abyss of your body,
to taste the moment that glues
our torn wings together,
that seeks existence
where only desire can reach.

Try to feel the last of your breath,
to understand the pain
that is bothering you again.

I'm crossing out the last sentence,
it's time to start
from the beginning.
The last star will witness
the fall of this year's paradise.

I fall apart into missing pieces,
I suffocate with light.

My Dark Messiah, I fall asleep
at the very beginning
of a sentence.
I am reborn, although
my body
is going in a different direction.

I try to understand
the silence
that fills your tears,
the spasmodic cry for victory.

I do not succumb to illusions
that spread at the speed
of light.
I don't fall in love
with words that have no thoughts
of their own.

I would like to free myself
from this autobiography.
My tired, sleepless time
would rather
please my nights -
I know that memories will return,
that they will lead me
to the edge of this land of hatred.

I dream so that you can
free yourself from the shackles
of fear.
I'm having an interesting
conversation with myself.

My Dark Messiah! The lost warrior,
the incurable loner
who is still searching for
a world of his own!
I see glimmers of hope
in your crimson pupils.
I sense a truth that is not associated with
any memory.

Terrified of my own heart,
I try to find the right future
for you.
My illusions that fill
your victorious time,
today resemble only dried tears,
words covered with a thick layer
of dust.

I would like to fall asleep
so that the future will give me back
my desires.
I hide in the fifth corner
of my heart; I know that one day
you will fall before
the border of whispers.

I will experience that fear,
which has never loved in solitude.
I will get used to sleep,
whose insomnia is coming
to an end.

The Dark Messiah, lost within
your own heart!
Will you come back
when the final repentance
awakens in me?

Will you find your way back
to loneliness?

My Dark Messiah, tainted by
the pain of the world,
dedicated to the end of humanity!
Do you exist to soothe
the desolate, cursed tears?

I hear your thoughts whisper,
how the tears
collide...
My Dark Messiah,
sentenced to life imprisonment!
Sentenced to failure
that will not give way to silence.

You are familiar with
your own hope.
I am asking you to never look
for the wrong path
again.

Let the roadside
that the lost words traverse
be enough for you.
Clauses which drown in the depths
of too narrow senses,
of distant dreams.

My Dark Messiah, lie down
next to my desire,
let pity unite with your body,
with your shadow-loving heart.

I do not judge future by present.
I do not accuse the truth
when the lie is so distant,
so identical.

The heart, so frightened by sky,
still running away from sleep,
is only a naive stray,
a loser, for whom it is not worth
paying with a premature look
straight in the face.

I waited, I found the scent
of warmest thoughts in you,
I released my desire - to satiate
with tears; a definitive kiss,
left on a nearby path.

Cursed by the air, deprived of
the right to my own sadness,
I encounter on your body
a trail so endless
that banners disappear,
death turns into nothing.

It's just a sad look into the distance,
an entrustment to space and time.

Please tell me, is it worth appreciating
the silence
that will eventually replace
you and your crimson breath?

Cured of my iconoclastic longing,
I am falling apart
like a house of cards
built by your whisper.

I am trying to free myself
from last year's sky, but I know
that you are still guarding
my soul.

Locked in my own shadow,
I raise a toast to a happier world.
When the last bell
falls silent, I will renounce
my freedom, I will forget
about loneliness.

An hour will be born
in me that knows neither light
nor penance.
Perhaps one morning
I will understand that victory
is not dedicated to me.

I will open my mouth,
close the window.
I am not afraid of tomorrow's
illusions, of another painless evening.