In Mokum at nights.

Mokum at Night

I hit the streets wondering,

my heart 100 kg  black stone in my chest

starving to hear the call…

where is the call?

did someone hear it?

did someone saw it?

I want to stop people in the street, maybe they know, right?

Maybe they know where my call has been all this time.

”Sir, excuse me,

Sir! My call, Sir, my light have you seen it? It is bright, I think… ”

”Sir? Sir! please do not leave!”

”You are older than me, you must have a family, your white hair , your serious face, maybe you know, right? RIGHT?”

”Sir! Please, just one word, one hint… please”

No answer, silence, searching again.

Searching…

Like a junkie searching for dope with the last coins in his pocket,

I’m searching for meaning with the last hope in my soul.

deep down…

for a few seconds,

I saw it the eyes…

Blank, empty, ruthless, survival itself…

Oh my god!

in his eyes I am telling you!

I saw it! saw it , I do not know if is the answer, but saw it.

But never mind, what I saw,

tonight like all the other nights I will lie to myself,

so I can get a few hours sleep.

I saw it!

”The call never comes man, it wont come tonight either.”

Stop myself from hoping,

stop myself from believing.

Years passing, winters, summers, foreign lands, thousands of new faces

but the call never comes man…

it never comes…

and I am exhausted from waiting,

exhausted from acting,

exhausted from hoping,

half dead, half hopeless romantic

needles piercing my body,

blank ink,

years of faded skin poems,

feeling nothing.

It never comes, 

it will never come.

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