POETRY
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b®anislav
Prose
TRAIN?

A stretching day.
Tired hours.
Lazy minutes.
Time stops on every second
It’s rests and starts again.
Somebody has shot a moment
but didn’t kill it,
it lost the breath
somewhere nowhere, in space.
No time.
Are you dying?
I smash my fingers
I’m covered in sweat
hornets are in my veins,
will punch a clock
pain and union.
.................
Waiting
...................
In a hurry I forgot my ticket.
Trembling train has gone.