Poem Hunter
Diaries From Distant Shores
WG William Greco (03.07.1992 / Slovakia)

Diaries From Distant Shores

each night...
I think about the moment when we'll vanish
on the doormat of an empty house
because I know some day they will come -
the malignant conquistadors and their mooncoloured hounds
when this century of the sleepless will come to an end
so I'm trying to unravel the missing monologues
while indulging in many contradictions
stranded on remoted beaches
seeking redemption with sand in my hair
like a famished cormorant rambling the landfill
in a very weird mental state

it's becoming clear...
that time has shunned this godforsaken place
and as I'm following the familiar landmarks
following the strange candlelit pathways
I know that your bedroom is in a saltwater heaven,
far away from the angry masses
becalming myself in my transcient refuge
while you're deploying your crying talent
we went loose from our moorings and you refused the safety buoy
now tide of our sensations is coming up fast
turning us into these crampled wrecks
left to rust at the shallow bay

these sleeping islands...
are just relics of my hopes, diaries of fading sunlight
after we carved our scriptures on dormant rocks
creating museums of our own memories
at the very edge of despair
and I think that we'll never be missed
you, me and my companion of delusions
but remember dear, there are no boundaries
be sure that I'd row my soul over the vast seas
to see you standing on the abandoned shoreline
and our handprints will fossilize in the interim
imprinting fatal visions to rocky soil

there's no turning back...
when landscapes change, when the rains come
submerged in solitary conversations
I'm unworthy to left gifts at your feet
so I wait and sleep in this desolate bothy
shattered and painfully conscious
and it's like descending the slippery cliffs
even if some of them have withstood a thousand storms
it's been a mindless voyage led by lack of sobriety
right when you found my incomplete letters
and your blurred outlines were drifted ashore
leaving the white lines carved into sand

how far...
would we go in a bottomless boat?
that's where I seek the point of continuation
but one day they'll throw away all of your belongings
down to the bottomless chasm of memories
and it will stalk me through the mainland
haunt me even at the bottom of the ocean
knowing that life of fulfilled desires is like an immortal pilgrim
shrinking in the darkest nook of guilt
but I believe that our paper boat is unsinkable
in loving memory of sweet melancholy
we'll sing the shepherd's ballads by the jetty

I'll hold your hand...
through the final ascend from hazy lowlands
'cause I know there's certainly a rebirth awaiting,
as lost love leaves scars in the countryside
and each night I can't resist
the lighting of south side beacon
the ageless beacon that will shine on our way
when your shy retinas turn to flowers
and hide away from moonlit skies
I'm sinking in smoothness of your skin
stitching your heart to mine
and letting it sail away in a bottle
while you're still shivering beside me
as a reminder of our mortality
enchanted by the divine music
flying in a great heights like two starving gulls
over the freezing sea of abstractions
waterlogged and malcontended
we will abandon the terminal beach
we'll leave together in the air
and greet every star without exception

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