delirium

Black snow that dribbles from the roofs;
A blood-red finger dips into your brow,
Blue nerves sink into the barren chamber,
That are the lifeless mirrors of lovers.
The head breaks into weighty pieces and ponders
On shadows mirrored in blue nerves,
The frozen smile of a dead whore.
In sweet carnations weeps the evening breeze.

Georg Trakl

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