Omelette

really, i’m really starving from the frame of my room’s window afternoon sun looks like an omelette wonderful, well-fried, big and wide but that omelette has been divided, slaughter by neighbors’ tv antennas by phone and electronics cables and without a few for my stomach i try to make my tears not to drops remind me again my mom’s omelette i used to be find one, a whole one, as her love with her children with continues fallen saliva i see that omelette without wink but only few seconds then it is gone ravenous-dine by whom i don’t know and then left sky alone like dirty-grubby plate tonight when dark covers the space night lamps one by one wake i will crawl go out from my room then silently lick the sky-plate before cleaned by rain or dew only to entertain my hunger stomach then sleep and dream about an omelette