the small glass box
of damaged soul
is closed.
there is no holes.
the ghost of sound
never knocks
the door.
my lonely peaceful
paradise
means silence
in my thoughts.
I'll take my pills-
they change the size
of holes in mind
and doors.
i'm watching dying
of the Muse
without way to breath.
the music seems
to be diffused
with the silent dreams.
the ghost of sound
never cries
it doesn't have
the shade.
i'll recognize
at dying times
the Silence
And her breath.
