The Barbarians |
by the Editors |
|
Always, Everything 1. trendy nights even the nights follow the fashion trend. they have become merely days with a liver sickness. simple days. everyday days when only the light is slightly more yellow. now we can sleep undisturbed. everybody knows that hepatitis gets out from ourselves much easier than the darkness. 3. the child is crying in the rain the Turkish beggar child is professionally crying, and I don’t realize it. he cries his heart out, without tears. his cry is poor. his cry is bald. the child’s cry is old, like the last rain through which the sky breathes its last. but I don’t realize this and I continue to give him money until his eyes start pouring coins. 4. through the peephole I hear steps in the hallway. the dog barks at the door. I get up from the tv, I look through the peephole and I see my mother coming pregnant with nobody, eating pear seeds. 5. I won’t forget you now my mother gives birth to a casket of lacquered wood, freshly nailed shut, an arrogant casket, full of myself, full of flowers and wreaths decorated with ribbons written in black: I will never forget you, mother. 6. her own god her own god is the kindest and the best listener in the world. he doesn’t waste nights he doesn’t drink or smoke, he is never late for work, he is a serious, sensible god who knows what he wants in life. her own god is the kindest and the best listener in the world. the most serious one. nothing to reproach him. he is an efficient god that makes all her wishes come true. 10. and I took she told me if I take drugs one more time she leaves me, if you take just one more time this shit I leave you, I can’t live with you like this, she said, and I took. the statue of liberty we kneel and we ask for forgiveness. we weep. we wash its feet with our tears we make promises that we will keep, knowing it will remain still without us even looking up. on the wrong side of the road at dream speed first, only a perfect butterfly flies back to become a moth. you feel it in your stomach while dreaming and you forget of the sleeping body with its wide open mouth into which the moths fly pouring from the broken mattress. the strength of the leaves finally, the leaves separate their fingers and open wide stretching their palms. billions of small fists now crush the light. only when the fist opens I see you next to me and I am planning to teach all of them to give up boxing and to sleep at night with their palms wide open. |
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