broken mirror, black water,

crumpled desire in its narrow box

of guilt and other treasured trash

that you cannot part with;

music composed in haste, 

with a taste of “as it had never been” 

it’s two o’clock:

new words on her lips taste like honey;

there’s only one direction to go,

he laughs, staring at his face

in the night’s mirror:

the reflection is a hollow skull.

worlds within worlds,

islands of light in oceans of timeless waiting,

clusters of lives that we could have lived

or may have lived and do not remember

all layered in the mind

slowly rotating, folding, unfolding -

muffled steps in narrow corridors

frozen blood vessels, 

secret gates of more unfathomable worlds;

one day we’ll move freely

from this life into a parallel one

across voices and echoes

through labyrinths made of butterfly wings -

maybe one day

silence and words

will spiral into perfectly shaped stars.

colours and shapes

corals and seaweed

frail light and meandering shadows

there in the depths

where worlds fall and drown

there where order collapses

in the blue with icy flames

there where voices choke in agony -

you will witness how

muted screams become once again

blinding light and sirens’ songs…