"Three of hearts," the demon says. He's lounging on Joseph's bed, deck of cards in his hands and shirt riding up over his stomach. He glances up, fangs flashing in a bright grin as if he can feel ... [+]
I walk around the voided saloon
peeping the puppet museum for life
in vain: there's nothing but wood and time in here
everything is but what it seems –
abortions of being
(negative expectations)
I look around, wondering:
these puppets can play Greek, Shakespearean tragedies;
yet they hang still, waiting attentively... why?
I look for the exit
without conviction
under the opaque eyes of the wooden troupes
I wander in circles to the sound of my uncertain steps
each movement seems more and more
and more absurd in here
time itself begins to gain
a wood-like substance
unlike our rotting corpses
i feel my strange body afloat –
the threads linking me to existence
suddenly shine against the still air in the room...
peeping the puppet museum for life
in vain: there's nothing but wood and time in here
everything is but what it seems –
abortions of being
(negative expectations)
I look around, wondering:
these puppets can play Greek, Shakespearean tragedies;
yet they hang still, waiting attentively... why?
I look for the exit
without conviction
under the opaque eyes of the wooden troupes
I wander in circles to the sound of my uncertain steps
each movement seems more and more
and more absurd in here
time itself begins to gain
a wood-like substance
unlike our rotting corpses
i feel my strange body afloat –
the threads linking me to existence
suddenly shine against the still air in the room...