képek, betűk

The background was grey
on the back wall,
through the dark-blue window
dogs peered in at him.
Beneath his bed,
curled-up dust bunnies.
Before him, his two cold palms;
he imagined a butterfly into them.
Everything he knew
slowly disappeared.
He remained,
dreaming of colourful lollipops,
racing on them
like a witch.
Out and away he flew,
roaming the city;
he flew across
the swamps of money,
spying on wolves
tearing at the flesh
of dead whales.
At dawn he returned,
shut his window,
and went to sleep.
In his dream he wept,
and never spoke again.