Decision

Smoke in the spring mist    sticks to your throat    in slimy membranes.         The weight of the cross-walk    cracks and screams    under the deafening    gravity    of your conscience         choking you, slowly; with    one more step    one more thought    one more moment    passing you by.         You wait, eternally    for the intertia    to slam your frail    self    through the tumbling sky.       -         The same dream    from the night    before         because there is a process    to gently pull you,    a diseased cow         poked    measured    analyzed         The body moves forward    the brain doesn´t.         "Do not lean against walls"         "Do not speak"         "Disobedience is dealt with     quickly and violently"       (You)         The first number before    and endless stream    of zeros.