rip-bridge (2009)

     
     
in the mist of deserted streets of this town i walk towards embankment where chain of bridges is to be seen ,    
bridges which always vulnerate me to the core..      
     
it was one bridge..i never known it's name  since i knew it just like 'rip bridge'..because of this graffiti 'rip 'which was scribled upon the lamps of handrail and then sprayed by different colour .. walking on and off via this bridge i thought on those unknown and unwanted who were too tall and nerveous to endure 'what is to endure',and have freed themself by fe-lo-de-se. but few 'dead' poets which's words gave me kinda crutches not to entirely derail from the narrow road, which getting to be tiner and tiner...not for them was a rip. for they were most alive. when streets are so deserted i feel like i soar through the unnamable nights, nights when i am phantom-like taged my shadow behind me, whisper my obsolete prayers to the not existing underground. No one would be able to find me, beside may be some of city-insanes,      
dammned to seclusion and long forgeting what is tears or how taste despair..cocooned in haze of the gray of my blunts which melt with haze of mist, i couldnt stop to wonder how much hurt and humilitations arent enough. and  why this russian jail-proverb: „не верь, не бойся, не проси"*so much suits for this life in socalled freedom.  
 
 
 
 
 
*dont believe, dont afraid, dont ask