Doors

Written by: Kanour Med

Il vaut mieux- as there was nothing.
None knocks at the door, as I don’t knock more
A horse doer, escaping from the stable
I penetrate a place then dropping from the window
Humming – hawing,
Rushing,
Sighing,
-In a far bench
I count the stumbling words, trailing the weakened tongue

Il vaut mieux- as there will be everything.
I come looking for incision to run away
The scattered papers, I let go
Trying another iron or wooden door
I’m crazy about wall’s hole
Joyful,
Sorrowful,
Lustful,
Our relation is like railway lines
We meet underneath the pressure of changing the course.