09 January 2012

Untitled

He is almost no one when he climbs
the bridge in the fog. Alone,
he has created a great despair
to keep him company.

Ten thousand empty buildings.
Above the black, silent river
that almost doesn't seem to be there,
the fog swallows the nauseous light.

A light wind caresses
his hair. A tiny affection
going wild. It
pushes him off.

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