No hope as yet...
As my love of you is only getting worse,
expanding me to death and overstrain
in constant spiritual exhaustion,
your obsession is a haunting spectre
never leaving me alone
but always edging me along
in constant worries and unease,
and there is never any cure for love.
So keep the whirlwind roaring,
hunt me down if you can make it,
and I'll just keep on running
chasing you as well
through all the torturous unrests of hell
with just one single hope
like some faint light in the far end
of this the darkest of all tunnels,
that of one day maybe
reaching some kind of a settlement...
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 653 times
Written on 2010-04-26 at 10:49
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