Wojciech F. Zlomek - Constant Times of Day - Night

***

once I grew...
I waited for happiness as if for a messiah
whose coming was announced by slogans
on hungry fences
I gave myself away to everyone
unnecessarily
and there was less and less of me
until one day I saw
that I'm no longer alive

now each night
I write out my own
death certificate. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . in the twelve thousand
four hundred eighteenth day of dying
I wrote my first poem
and I uttered each written word
separately quietly and distinctly
looking in the direction of the stars

in the twelve thousand four hundred eighteenth day
I wrote a request for admission
to the hell of artists

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