This Road

And the seagulls are collecting the flesh

from the sharp bones of the sea.

Having another pair of eyes

for their oracle collection.

Another lost keys for the iron locks,

rust swallowing what’s left from the wrecks.

The sparkling soul, drowning towards the end.

Towards the abyss of paperhearts.

Fake and unreliable.

*

Never thought this road ends with a cliff.