Debris of Previous Lives

an iron horse
is travelling
through a conduit
taking me
to the city of dreams
the land of masks
of immediate paradoxes
of rapid change
in a sea of shifting
no standing room to
in this land of
the visitor is blind
to the river of pain
deaf to cries of forgotten
because you are young
you don’t see
Dorian behind his mask
to the debris of previous lives
hung out to die
cities seldom sleep
as youth plays
in the twilight
The Forgotten
whisper, BEWARE
every aspect of humanity is
Here, waiting!

by Paolo Michell

About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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