In the shadows.
Napsal, pro Tebe, Lubomír Tomik
She took another wet bloody patch of meat,
she rubbed it on both sides with a mixture of pain, desire and confusion,
sea urchins, porcupine needles,
packs craving the smell of prey,
reach into the heart, whisper:
gateway for the defeated,
photo trigger of my eyes.
Give up darling, tribute to poetics,
because what keeps us alive than our fantasies crumbling to pieces
outlines of reality:
nothing but pain
tummy of the thumb passing through the sharpened edge of the razor.
coast of mind in flames,
every thought of you is a viking raider waving an ax,
tasting with a ladle from the cauldron of Macbeth’s witches,
a glass of wine from the walled cellars,
love of verses,
thousands of scents of Arabia.
PS LT: In the shadow it is called because a girl who rubs a mixture of thistle and other herbs pieces of raw meat, while depicting a trap for a pack of wolves, stands on the edge of the forest, in the shadow. Even in the shadow of thoughts, trying to separate reality from fantasy, but everything merges into one.
PS LT II: I try to write here in English as well, because I still believe in the possibility that you can take a brief look ,YOU … and because of that I will do my best if it happens.