Ome
08-16-2011, 06:30 AM
I see a war always in my dreams.
The war with the mouth, which is awfully opened.
I move under the bed (and take “The Eyes of the Interred” by Miguel Angel Asturias with me).
I believe only bed can protect me, because only it knows the taste of my body.
War is an old man’s mouth, which is awfully opened and it repeats: “We change your body parts into the dreams”,
so I pass him my fingers and see the dream:
Some girl (which must be me) is brushing her hair,
she sees the louses on the brush and starts killing them.
I see a war always in my dreams.
I see the bodies that are carried out of the town with tracks.
I see the bodies that are filled up with water,
they will be bursted like a soup-bubbles,
will be bursted unavoidably.
The bodies, that might be my sisters…
So I write a letter demanding a God in the dream instead of my sisters’ lives,
and send it to the dreams central office.
I see a war always in my dreams.
I see – people stay up early,
they laugh, clean the guns, drink the black coffee,
put on the boots and go hunting.
Their wives bake strawberry pies,
tidy up the rooms, but never look under the bed,
because they know one of their sons,
or one of their daughters
is lying there.
The men come back lately and talk about hunting a 3 years old boy proudly,
about hunting the mother of the kid,
about hunting the father of the kid,
who had put on his best costume and was going to visit someone’s dream as a God.
The war is an old man’s mouth, which is awfully opened,
so I pass my body to him.
I see a war always in my dreams.
I will be bursted,
I will be bursted....
The war with the mouth, which is awfully opened.
I move under the bed (and take “The Eyes of the Interred” by Miguel Angel Asturias with me).
I believe only bed can protect me, because only it knows the taste of my body.
War is an old man’s mouth, which is awfully opened and it repeats: “We change your body parts into the dreams”,
so I pass him my fingers and see the dream:
Some girl (which must be me) is brushing her hair,
she sees the louses on the brush and starts killing them.
I see a war always in my dreams.
I see the bodies that are carried out of the town with tracks.
I see the bodies that are filled up with water,
they will be bursted like a soup-bubbles,
will be bursted unavoidably.
The bodies, that might be my sisters…
So I write a letter demanding a God in the dream instead of my sisters’ lives,
and send it to the dreams central office.
I see a war always in my dreams.
I see – people stay up early,
they laugh, clean the guns, drink the black coffee,
put on the boots and go hunting.
Their wives bake strawberry pies,
tidy up the rooms, but never look under the bed,
because they know one of their sons,
or one of their daughters
is lying there.
The men come back lately and talk about hunting a 3 years old boy proudly,
about hunting the mother of the kid,
about hunting the father of the kid,
who had put on his best costume and was going to visit someone’s dream as a God.
The war is an old man’s mouth, which is awfully opened,
so I pass my body to him.
I see a war always in my dreams.
I will be bursted,
I will be bursted....