The New Era

Everything feels like

a sleepy morning that won't go away

until you shed a tear,

the last tear in this cursed decade.

All that you can see

unites with the nearby paradise

from which the last angel left.

Approach my breath,

feel the cool touch of tender, unfamiliar hands

on your skin.

Are you able to face the new era

that will begin before

the overvalued meaning returns to us?

Will we avoid this groundless existence

that bears the hallmarks

of a failed struggle?

Kiss my last unwanted smile.

Lift my perverted ideology from its knees.

I will find in us that light

that does not harmonize with

the prompting of time.

Let's not pretend that sadness

is multiplying in us, to which I could

dedicate my warmest prologue.