Dear Mie,
In this town
In this place
of clear skies and
green fields lies a promise
a pact we made
in the evening of our consummation
In this town
In this place
of dusty side paths and dry taps lies a pledge
a pact we made
in the heat of our passion
In this town of slaves and slavers
lies the remains of a blood pact that bind us with hopes
to the adulation of a puppet show
do not wait
for the ressurection
do not wait for the restoration
In this town
In this place
of broken pledges lies a precision
the threads of duty
that bind us to the hopes of intellectual dreams
In this town
In this place
of beautiful promise
made in the heat of ignorance
In this town
of roaming spirits
and portly goblins
lie a promise of egg shells
to be broken
do not ask
of our kisses below the altar
do not ask
of our manifestoes delivered
in the shadow of a promise!
In this town
In this place
of multi billion tricycles
and NO VACANCY signs
lies a hammer to crush
packages of idealized manifestoes
and spill rejection into
the eyes of stupefied reason
In this town
of regulated dressing
lies an antidote to the infatuation of our promise
do not come
to seek the pleasures
we once shared
do not hurry to spread
your legs to the ruins of our vigour!
In this town
In this place
of gates and rules
and tick infested floors
lies the grave of remembered pleasures
of remembered pledges
in this place of official amnesia lies the eternity
of ill- used words.
