Silencing Their Cure Critters of the gallows do still wallow In the last blink of a cold eye, As the winter turns to swallow All the cures of all our old crimes, And nobody seems to quite know Who to turn to with their foiling? This planet’s rotundity the sun still resists, As nothing comes to any real end. As long as nothing comes out of crisis, How can a day yet begin? Do you wonder why your trail recedes Every day, till it fades upon your feet? Does eminence embellish what lies beset The pain of a cure of a disease unknown? Enough you have tried to cure your fate Kill it shall, as it praised you to be born. Staggering under sleeping-pills, Ribs slackened against your breathe. What were you trying to cure? What did you think you could escape? Their eyes wary, their lips parched They have long searched for the divine touch. But now they are sleepy, almost restlessly… They have learnt to never feel lonely. The cure or the incurable shall always be Always very close to their heartbeat... Always very close to where no one speaks; Not the incurable...nor the cure.