Route Chaser

Route Chaser

It was me who
was too careless
to notice about
Pieces of Winter
were smashing
into stupefied windy days . . .

Crushing voices of
Messengers from
morning dew drops,
They pretend as
your enchanted footsteps
which is still lingering in me . . .

Some street dogs stepped
over my feet
while I was trying
to unlock the gate of Lost;
The gate closed me or
I closed the gate ? ? ?

Slapped a poor mosquito
who didn't know
about art of hunter,
A pitch of scream is almost shed . . .
Have those rats given
any mercy for vegan cats?

When my chin up,
the sky is being webbed.
When my head down,
useless mess of ethic is being piled.
When I face front,
route to you is being fogged.

BS
21:48
16 March 2010