Serotonin

Beneath the sky,
Lies the sun.

It hangs there all by itself,
Which makes humans sometimes wonder
If everything is actually alright.
It falls into the big ocean at night, though.

Beneath the sun,
lies two twigs and a broken branch.
They are
Stretched across a number that would make you dazzled.

Nothing exists across that vast number
only a few shadows that move here and there.

There are different shades of shadows
Some are giant-scorpion-like, formed on the walls
of literature texts of some things.
Some are white and invisible, formed
everywhere black and visible.

Besides there is nothing else,
only a few unwanted mosses.
and some moments that keep passing on

On on on and on,
From the time Coleridge
used 'awn' instead of 'on',
to the time he was buried
underneath his own lawn,
with men all tied-up necks.

Time was a word they discovered
They called the language by its own way
as English.
In such a way that English can be spoken
only in English.


These blokes with tied up necks
go on tying it up until they suffocate
and end up the way Coleridge did

That remindes me, besides shadows
there are men too.


:)