Sacred Wind

by Peycho Kanev

the dark and stinking wind
blows through
my shattered window

I sit naked on the chair
with a beer bottle in my hand
and let the wind on me

my radio is broken
my life is torn

and my girl is somewhere in
the deep black night

as the lovers love
as the flowers grow
as the junkies blow

I feel the wind

and he rips my flesh
until I am only bones
and I am beautiful
again.

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Filed under Issue 2, Poetry

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