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Wings on the inwards
I had to be an angel, but on carrying into effect my wings were mounted within and now I’m fated to fly inside me only. Due to the airflows made by the wings a lung disease harrows my yearnings. I am tired – along the day I make forced marches between „to have...” and „to be...” and all the night I am wandering among nightmares in eyes with stares, instead to star dance in a blue flight for the world love rite. Countless times I tried to escape – to fly in the sky, but a sticky neuron trammel pulled me down indefatigable. A thundering voice from far: „You, do not try again ...; the hungry is fastening you on the Earth ...; you are a human being and the human beings are angels with the wings on the inwards.” In the poem, the hungry is a neuronal one and it is reffering to everything the human being is looking for, including the hungry for blue.
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