it was a cloudy evening
when i lost my faith in poetry
the dying day
was sagging on my back like a knapsack
and yet
no objective seemed to be
worthy of a metaphor

i've pulled out of memory
a corrupted address
i've tried to clone the whole system

all blogs were telling me
to give up the auto-referential
narcissism
if i wanna be one of the guys
if i finally want
our guys to win

but no matter how hard i was trying
i couldn't believe
i couldn't believe to learn
i wouldn't learn to be able

that death
you can only cure
with silence