Smell of Blood

Smell of Blood,
blood smelling my wrists
in this room
that reeks of loneliness,
in the midst of this unholy dirt.
It is late
and only the whispers of the night
trample the carpet
A piece of bread,
a glass of wine
and an old pipe sweating,
Joining me in this agony
There is always room for a loser
in the old neighborhood.


Sebastian Dusalgi.

 

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