• Kristiana Roemer

Virgin Soil

In the heart of the meadow we said our goodbyes. Our sun here had been gutted. Our fruit here is dry. No more life left, nor thought, but the cue that it’s time. So you plunged for your freedom. First you jumped —  Then I.

I awoke… to a place of sweet, sad acid trips A bustling oasis Dreams licking their lips Highs of vast stimulations and a fierce solitude Lost in bitter isolation among shrill altered hues Muffled grunts of the herd  driven to the back row along with the moths  of our barren meadow.

I search you in the crowd but you’ve fallen elsewhere. And I, I must go on swimming through this grand athmosphere.

We both found our theatrical paradise. But beyond physical logic, by fortunate ties, I know we are bound. In dream-state I know that we have common ground.

I remember a place a sere distant glow not a touch without sound

our meadow.


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I have breakfast at three and my dinner in bed. Some days I’m happy as can be. Some days I’m losing my head. I teach classes online. I have a rich life virtually. But when I go outside I need to remem

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