Expectation Poem by George Tzouvaras

I circulate dressed with thoughts without face-value
harrowing my moments in the faint lights of the road
Death is an expectation to unkown
Try of purification in the last smoke
Commonness clams by the traps of habbit
Habbit is like sin; Bitter and unfair
In the lost light of life i pray
In the sweet calmness of a late afternoon i eavesdrop
the breath of winter
Expectation in the white of truth
Truth in the expectation of unusual
Paradox game of thought with sensations
smooths my steeply breaths
I was found somewhere in the end of the world
I was found hidden in your bones thought
I expect you to find me.