About four years ago I fell
into your face and stayed
embraced myself and read through you
what in myself I could not -

Two years ago I broke for the first time
and since, to rhyme makes me feel sick at heart;
and art as such no longer wears me out
or brings me down but merely
is as permanent as breath -

Last year I felt you slip away beneath my hands
and tried to bind two ends together, of which I knew
they don't belong -

Today, I swear, my mind fell out
onto the stony ground as I went home
away from you -

And here, this minute, keyboard staring back
and screen and windows are ridiculously black to me
and sounds not even get to me today -

but hey, those rhymes are back
                                                                         **** it
at last.