MOLE DEPTHS, TEETH-GRINDING SPEECHES

 If my loved ones leave me; first my father, later maybe my mother too, I must go finally towards the underground, tooth-gnashing mole depths, descending with shadow wings that can be attached; I cannot turn back and I cannot look forward confidently, hand in hand, at Someone's side. I can only leave my pitiful dusty shell in this earth. The questions of my selfish-tyrannical self-pity kick me awake at night: among brainwashed savage-root people, I can hardly meet worthy spirit followers of pop culture, if only not on the dusty shelves of libraries. 

I would like to try again - if possible - to remain the person I always was, a fearful, pee-in-the-mouth eternal child, with my childish naivety I believed in many unfair promises from my neighbors, I could have received happiness bearing the petals of the Universe as a gift in my youth. I know well: from now on I will approach false witnesses with more hesitant elderly steps, suspicious of them every second, just like I do the preaching words of hypocritical prophets. The contours of meaningless sneers would still preserve the holy magic of happier memories, but what for?! 

Out there, petty little kings and vultures are running, jumping, outdoing each other for the squirming prey of the scoundrels; I will have to pass before a silent line of underworld moles when my time of mortality finally ends. It would be good if my guardian angel would never forget me again; would cover me with his protective wings, cherishing me, and make me believe, with my ever-clicking mind, that living the Odyssey was a truly adventurous journey.