The road unfolding before us is thorny.
It's storming sweat and vagabonds;
And while it's tightening our bonds,
Our thoughts get scattered.
Above our heads, the sun is scorning—
It's burning red; its piercing rays
Are gnawing our bones. What mattered
Just a blink ago, now stays
So vaguely distant and forgotten.
It's raining lizards; we're juggling frogs
Through mists and fogs.
They were begotten of a dream
And fever which blossomed snow-white
In their favor. The dream will enter
Our lives, so lucid and milk-flavored.
The road before us never ends;
There are no tunnels—it's so bright,
So blinding. And our bonds are binding us.
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
This was thought provoking for me and full of beautifully written vivid imagery!! Great work Andrei!!
Love the imagery, especially "juggling frogs" 😁
Brilliantly styled and as surreal as always! ☺️👏