Escape the stairs - down, down, down

Is that me? Lord, Is that me?! Shadows on the walls, wild silence, laugh, cello, pale light, cups undersized, blind, evil soul. I will not pray, if you will - forgive, feels nervous, naked, dry two eyes. Thorns of roses, instead of a light perfume, dull, daily prose, nothing there in mind. Bloody toes thin, the strings are screaming, out chinks bells looking back. Somewhere in myth I lose myself too, white garga, stations, broken first hour. The lips are dumb, I do not have any more breath, cloud poems, crushed forest moss. If I cry, turn my back. In difficult tasks again I am full sorrow. But in spite of everything I'm not giving up. Scraped grass, Bell bell in a temple.