Filled with a wild curiosity
we stole through the dusk
a glimpse of fairyland
in the silver rays of the moon
as the mist cleared away
for the first early
there is no escape from
of your childhood.
P.S. This morn on thee laid no small miracle.
P.P.S. Και είναι σαν να μου το απευθύνει το τραγούδι ο George Michael αλλά πού να τον ακούσει το μυαλό, λείπουν οι λοβοί στις απολήξεις.
P.S. Honor to those, who in the life they lead, guard entropy.
P.S. It’s always ugly when the good kids go bad – yes, I’m talking about myself. (Ακούμε τον Σταμάτη τώρα και σκάμε)
Υ.Γ. Τώρα ήρθε το καλοκαίρι.
P.S. Because I start to get the urge to conquer you.
I was still young and I knew it all
And among all these beliefs I knew what lurked
In the end, regardless of who would bring it.
I remember myself claiming that the hair was not exactly dark.
That you had to be too close to see the green in the eyes.
I remember claiming, claiming, claiming
Claiming that I would throw what you gave me into the ocean.
Out of all the sea that surrounded me, the ocean. Even if then I knew why, I wouldn’t
still remember it.
Centuries later, I bring you to mind now and then.
And you are of those that I gladly recall.
There are people who crave nightmares
And as I was then a clumsy evil,
I smile that I was thankfully over.
I remember your fall
It was the first time that I ever witnessed it
With no one to blame really but the nature of things
And without strain, regret or bewilderment (I am lying here)
I catch myself smiling.
In a world where dreams were right
It would be peculiar, something as delicate as you
To be the symbol of a truth so great.
But in the world I live in, your curvy lines
You hair that was not exactly dark
Or your eyes that had you look into them closely to emit their green
Remind, without fear
That after the wake of each dream
Follows the morning visit to the toilet.
I threw your forgotten gift into my ocean
One of the days when I was entering my new house
And this time I was not smiling
And so many lives later, I made yet another wish
A wish that you had taught me something less
A wish that you had awoken me before I learned how to dream
But it is coming back to my lips
The tight smile of truth
That regardless of its repetition never gets numb
Why the hell did I drag you down with me?
P.S. Precious things may also deserve a lousy end.