I'm An Ancient Spirit, In That Ultra New World.
My Language Is Old, - From Milky Way Times.
Words, I'm Using In My Preach, - A Sword,
But Your Soul Is Covered With Flash-Shield Wise.

Snow, like bits of heavens cluster:
touch one piece of it and it will slip out
back to the heaven...
we are dying because of our warm hands,
warm bodies, because of global warm
and because we are to close to each other,
we have stop being pieces of cluster
and we became like avalanche:
now we are falling not from the sky,
but from ground to another - deeper and deeper,
right to the hell...
dying man - fallen from sky,
trying not to be a dead!
but stop this fall,
he is trying to separate
from other ones,
he is trying to jump up,
what only his soul can do
and he is doing -
slipping out from body,
because death touched him...

Waiting for something,
i'm sitting with myself
and waiting
some words,
like sunset or sunrise,
like words that means changes,
changes in my life,
in my soul.
i'm sitting with myself
and think about god,
devil,
angels and
demons.
i think that one side must
finish this thoat,
finish
this poem,
like one day
goes to another
and never be the same
again.
but it never happens...
all is the same:
pain,
love,
anger,
hunger
and this poem,
that i'm writing,
is the copy of a copy
of last poem that i write in
2009.
i'm sitting with my self,
but another one does not speak
to me, - i think he is tired too...