Zywa
Dreaming of my life in the city
It's quicksand, tricky
but there are no beasts
that gouge out my eyes
to tear me apart alive
nor is there any tide
no flood that drowns me
I'm just stuck
as in concrete, the sand
has hardened, yes
if there were tourists
I would wave at them
in their photos, but
there is nobody
I don't even feel anymore
how cold my legs are
I think of peat bogs
eating humans and animals
and I think of passers-by
who come to my aid
before I start to hallucinate
and dry out, waiting
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