MindtheMus

Today Gabriel brought me flowers and sun. When sundaymorning will be over you start listening to music from far away in time, hitting midges to death and try to hit the cockroaches in your ears which  delay you to think, you are looking at the sun going down, the lighttower, shining through the curtains every thirty seconds, transforming you in a green tiger, the natural breath of daily life, returning the way it was, like always, changing your death into the death of all the others from the past, the continuous stream of reality, slowly carrying you to the nomansland of pity and oblivion, TO HELL WITH DEATH you scream once in a while, leaving your hide out, shocked by the security for the last hour, as a ghost on big feet, shuffling through the large empty spaces outside, the remains of a former life, shimmering and smelling to dying flowers and candles with the purpose to enlighten a funeral. Everybody was so in greed, looking in the depth of heritage, nobody minded the presence of you, the inburied Mus.
Goodnight Mus, sleep well compagnon, lying with your stomach on the mosses of stones as old as you, you will bent your right arm under your head, for sleep is not far away, lonelier than ever, yellow, red and brown leaves caressing you good night, into to Indian summer, started last night for ever.