when the time finally comes—
where my soul expires and my body retires
abandon traditions or religious regulations
i don’t want to go to heaven— or hell
i don’t want to rest in peace as well
i want to exist as a spirit so i can freely roam
this city i worship, to haunt and to hunt for home.

so when the time finally comes—
bury me beneath the asphalts of the busy streets
of this howling city that never sleeps
where peasants and prophets loiter
stirring among crowds of broken laughter
on their shoulders, burdens rest
and their chests are uncertain’s nest.

the sadness of the city is one i want to embody
even when i’m nothing more than a dead body
so when the time finally comes—
allow my corpse to slip through the bitumen ground
of this city where lovers and sad people are profound
i’ll reside in my very own rome’s catacomb
except that it’s not merely a tomb, but also home.

– mari

ride trains, drink coffee, cry at balconies
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