Monday

from: nevin
title: lost
form: text; e-mail letter

He is aware that he won’t experience the ‘problem free hope’ anymore
His exuberance will always be left half-done
Like a poem left unfinished
As dull as the statues abandoned in the squares
At which nobody will look, or nobody will see even if they look
Of the obsolete and forgotten revolutions
A black hole inside him
Everything is missing
Thoughts, love-making, sadness, friendships
Now he knows
Neither his brush, nor his heart, nor his spirit
will be able to stop the magma from flowing
Magnificent sadness of the viola
In every exclamation
Purple and gray clouds obscured the horizon
A fish drowned in the sea