Geometry of Melancholy

The engraved world is frozen in half-step.

The final act of a random eternal saga;

On the silence hangs a worn coat

Of an evening-long nothingness.

The rays of the rainy night are creeping in,

Fired through the ghostly window glass

By ranks of grimy streetlamps.

In my cell, behind the armour of the door,

In sleep, I remember the fresh smell

And the slippery sound, the touch of soft paws,

And the indifferent colour (how strange!) of old dreams…

In the slumbering geometry of corners,

That dominates my misty gaze,

The time has gnawed out dusky holes,

And through them, I can feel the verdict,

The silent blues of half-decayed words.