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We Are Falling Apart
I walk down the city streets,
Sometimes feel like a boring lecture,
getting on my nerves,
Making me wonder where I am.
In the morning, they are the same,
As are the evening days.
I see some remnants of newspapers,
Rolling empty cans and wasted plastic packets;
They dance and float in the confusing air
At the passing of every car and van.
People walk down with calculating minds,
Making pavements busy and suffocating them.
Tears roll out of their eyes
With the sound of tedious echoing steps.
The sky looks sad,
Like anesthetized on the operating table.
I don't know how,
And you don't know me,
Living close but as if strangers.
We live putting on questions
and doubts each to each.
On every move of every person.
Unconscious people return home late at night;
They had supper, not but sleep tight
Or are busy scrolling screens up and down,
Staying up the whole night,
Beginning the day in dizzy air, watching
The ceiling fan spinning overhead unconsciously.
It's not over yet from the boaring nightclubs.
And that's how the world ends,
And that's how we're trapped,
Hovering in the hollow air.
© All Rights Reserved
Sometimes feel like a boring lecture,
getting on my nerves,
Making me wonder where I am.
In the morning, they are the same,
As are the evening days.
I see some remnants of newspapers,
Rolling empty cans and wasted plastic packets;
They dance and float in the confusing air
At the passing of every car and van.
People walk down with calculating minds,
Making pavements busy and suffocating them.
Tears roll out of their eyes
With the sound of tedious echoing steps.
The sky looks sad,
Like anesthetized on the operating table.
I don't know how,
And you don't know me,
Living close but as if strangers.
We live putting on questions
and doubts each to each.
On every move of every person.
Unconscious people return home late at night;
They had supper, not but sleep tight
Or are busy scrolling screens up and down,
Staying up the whole night,
Beginning the day in dizzy air, watching
The ceiling fan spinning overhead unconsciously.
It's not over yet from the boaring nightclubs.
And that's how the world ends,
And that's how we're trapped,
Hovering in the hollow air.
© All Rights Reserved
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