SURVIVAL

The bus going round the city’s ring

Stinks…

The air strolls up and down among us,

Running into old holes

And breaches

And evil seats

Standing back to back.

The air

Moves in the opposite direction,

Rising high

Above our heads,

Reaching our unfiltered noses,

To provide us with the opportunity

Of survival…

I keep on going round the city’s ring for many days.

The same air…

Like that of the nightfall

When the day turns into a swindle,

Or like that of the dawn

Sitting besides a disordered bed

Looking at the windows that have never been opened

It’s 1001 days and nights now we’ve had no rain

The air has begun to stink,

And we have nothing else

To live on

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4 Comments

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4 responses to “SURVIVAL

  1. I have been on this bus many times. This reminds me of a Samuel Beckett play

  2. hahaha Mr. Adventurer, What you say reminds me a very known statement of Elisabeth Gilbert in her book ‘Eat, pray, love’ – she has a main statement repeating it very often ‘I have been there…’ – that means what you say ^^^)))

  3. hmmmmm….this reminds me of a section of 100 Years of Solitude….your poetry getse better and better

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