Phantasrealismus

Only the noise of my steps,
falling in the mist of the night,
shy under the petals of the Universe
Moon is the female hunting
the lions in a desert of peace

Fingers stealing the notes from a song
found in the dark of Bourbon Street

The pale light above my see-through back
shines the heart beating, in the blood of the sound,
born from a rose and a guitar
I dance with the stars, I sing with the wind,
I step where the track follows
the instinct;
I jump to the moon in a vibration of
my own body, drawn in the smoke
from the sand of my feet –
for her smooth face poisoning my sight
will cry a tear of passion to swallow

…while there’s Moon over Bourbon Street!!!

© Marius Surleac