Loneliness is a prison by Vladimir Marku

My tears hurt in
my eyes

Loneliness is a
concentration camp

Smells house-slops

In the waiting
tin-bowl

The iron plates

Of the heavy
boots

Of my heart

Crush my
ventricles

The temptation
mouse

Gnashes its
teeth

The cold iron of
the bed

Covered with
sleepless straw

Has got a single
season

Then we take the
pen

And write books

Delousing
ourselves

Of the
expectation parasites.