The window says there is a happy breeze outside
but how it evades me!
escaping the rotten odor that emanates.
someone has died inside me.
efforts to cremate him go in vain.
the smoke of a cigarette doesn't burn him
it doesn't even suffocate the inhabitants of my heart.
instead they run away and take shelter in my memories.
the gut rumbles and twists in pain
indicate years of suffering ahead.
it is still not my time.
every minute wounds, the last one kills.
as for this moment what is left is helpless waiting,
all that is left is smoke, flies and confinement.
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