Single traveler between four walls
and down-and-out zone ,
mirror without response ,
questions deprived of reflections .
Poor abandoned pain-pusher
on a polluted island
between a cup of coffee
and a boatload of wrecked words.
Unshaven Robinson who saw himself
as conquistador of golden empires
and submissive creatures..
Your glorious expeditions ,
are only race of a rat ,
entangled on the starting line.
Dude at the entrance to the metro,
your genius begging for a hangout,
the crowd contemplating your face
without reading your despair .
The butts are laughing at you,
in way of Nobel, a reminder
from the finance department
that humiliates your versification
and holey\'s pocket inspiration...
In your haven of cold pizza
and empty cans concertina,
you drop the ink as lethal anchor ,
on the blank of your toilets ,writing
in depressed letters :
\'\' In poetry I don\'t trust ! \'\'