Yellow, grey black and white,
the only colors filling these grounds .
Here, no familiar animals turn around,
life's worst enemy is the world itself
a place where nothing
is ever safe and sound .
Lives only what can endure a living,
Survives only what can find a daily serving
of another living thing,
for food
before eating it rapidly
as to not attract
the four, five
sometimes six eyed
rats
and not end up deceived,
caught, in another one's
trap.
Nothing living for three hundred
meters around..
Except a small three legged snake
maybe what used to be a lizard.
Our little friend quickly disapeers
into a valley of mountains of concreet and cement slabs,
escaping the dangerous air
he is getting back quick
he needs to reach his lair
suddenly, on the way he stops.
Dreaming?
Staring at an familiar old strange logo
frozen in a rock reading :
2132 Champions the mighty Red socks.
Not knowing letters
the lizard makes it's way,
creeping through a crack in a bathtub
to reach its destination and stay,
a skull used as a house,
a round rock of bone
filled all the way
with sand, not smiling because
the toxic air has eaten up all
of it's fake teeth,
looking at an old piece of rust
it still forces itself a grin
like if wanting to say "Smile I must !"
Our lizard stops,
his eyes wander around
the ground although sand
is the only thing to be seen
here with concrete.
It has been a long time since
our lizard hasn't met another
of his race.
It wasn't the same when
he was just a child,
things move at such a pace!
Our lizard is now getting sleepy,
his eyes fall as his plated
neck stays straight.
When shall he find food ?
Will he find food ?
Will he be eaten, will he die ?
He asks himself in his old fractured scull,
before stoping ounce again
to close his eyes and listen
as he always loves to do,
to that same acid and toxic breeze
flowing on top of the blocks.
And although he should feel
happy, although he feels distressed,
he can't help to believe :
"What a mess !"
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Yellow, grey black and white,
the only colors filling these grounds .
Here, no familiar animals turn around,
life's worst enemy is the world itself
a place where nothing
is ever safe and sound .
Lives only what can endure a living,
Survives only what can find a daily serving
of another living thing,
for food
before eating it rapidly
as to not attract
the four, five
sometimes six eyed
rats
and not end up deceived,
caught, in another one's
trap.
Nothing living for three hundred
meters around..
Except a small three legged snake
maybe what used to be a lizard.
Our little friend quickly disapeers
into a valley of mountains of concreet and cement slabs,
escaping the dangerous air
he is getting back quick
he needs to reach his lair
suddenly, on the way he stops.
Dreaming?
Staring at an familiar old strange logo
frozen in a rock reading :
2132 Champions the mighty Red socks.
Not knowing letters
the lizard makes it's way,
creeping through a crack in a bathtub
to reach its destination and stay,
a skull used as a house,
a round rock of bone
filled all the way
with sand, not smiling because
the toxic air has eaten up all
of it's fake teeth,
looking at an old piece of rust
it still forces itself a grin
like if wanting to say "Smile I must !"
Our lizard stops,
his eyes wander around
the ground although sand
is the only thing to be seen
here with concrete.
It has been a long time since
our lizard hasn't met another
of his race.
It wasn't the same when
he was just a child,
things move at such a pace!
Our lizard is now getting sleepy,
his eyes fall as his plated
neck stays straight.
When shall he find food ?
Will he find food ?
Will he be eaten, will he die ?
He asks himself in his old fractured scull,
before stoping ounce again
to close his eyes and listen
as he always loves to do,
to that same acid and toxic breeze
flowing on top of the blocks.
And although he should feel
happy, although he feels distressed,
he can't help to believe :
"What a mess !"
