Cursed Mind Treasures

the switch inside your head
the beauty kissing you
the bloody-brood
the standing crossover on the left
and the emerging abyss on the right,
the blooming bulbs in the dark
and footless anglers
wandering dark waters
with their cheap lights and sinful souls
the world’s heavy weight on your back,
real thoughts unmatched with reality
and beggars not so far away,
resting in benches
crawling their skin in draught
the fishermen with their standing fishing rods
and their brains cheap talking
to all the petty crowds
and their grey-scaled lungs
impatiently waiting
for their endless cigars flame,
but the world still spins
and shouts
“’twas always thus, and always thus will be”,
while you creep your selfish life
until
you realize
it’s not too late