new year

and i will run again

i will engrave routes and wont leave

slippery snail trails that will glow in the twilight

my orbits will write traces almost linear

they will make up a new grid

and the city will fit inside

the city poetics

omonia square with its junkies

playing between matter and spirit

the trains vibrating the soil

their feet can barely hold

sofokleous with its prostitutes

under-age black beauties in white dresses like the first communion

the missionaries sweat , blood run down their backs

but always before the sperm

homeless people in their corners holding the level

from flying up like a thin cloth in the air

Syggrou street transvestites redeeming

me and you from our sins with litanies inside

five doors that reflect cosmic dust

i will run again

[i have nothing else]

and i will write for you to read

and recognize

myself as you look in the mirror

beautiful

[as i never was]

our new ethics

everything returns to us

the beyond still un-manifested

thankfully

new year

from inside my soul

that touched nerve ends

blooded cells

i will dilate

to my first image

the one you saw first

[and loved me]

behind all those lights

that will shoot the end

somewhere over there...

somewhere over there...

we will reach

"not yet"

the end

"my baby"

let me call you that

and cry as i can only do

only like that from now on

[like me]

tΕΧT:nIKOS m.
pHOTO:aTHENtO