The sky is white.
I am afraid.
I feel tiny crocodiles
swimming in my veins.


My furious little mind
fills with greedy-eyed
mosquitos and insomniac children,
with noise and toil and
hurricanes of shame.


I feel the presence
of a murderous Czar.


The rain falls like knives,
like shadows boxing, like
a slow parade of undertakers.


The dead are all anonymous
and identical. Those once mighty
are now the breakfasts of maggots.
An endless geometry:
fate. insane with desire.


When I move,
the fog moves
with me.


I smile.

It's almost
what I wanted.
It's almost

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/never-stop-to-be-between/