You can’t remember when it started,
when the tigers burst into your skull
and got drunk with your own blood.
With time they became a part of you
and the world hasn’t slept since Hitler,
so who cares about your worst hours ?
The only certainty is her absence
melting like a pill
in the red mouth of days.
Alone, you move around a lot, cities,
places you never really dreamt of.
Here the sea is on fire,
there she’s forever with her crime,
but shame is gone since Milosevic
so who cares about grime ?
If loss is a lullaby,
then you sleep side by side secretly.
Alone, she moves around a lot, bodies
faces, she never desired really
and when you run away
from things that turn bad
if you stay,
she prays a diaphanous god
to spit your cold heart at her feets.
Tenacious belongings,
you know what it means, honey ?
Unuasually tender,
two lost tigers in an abbey.