Rex est mort, vivat Rex!

* * *
I"ve never been where surely had to be
To let myself realize that I still have not died. 
These prison black doors had not to stop me:
I had to break the locks and fly after the night,
I had to answer voices and come in,
To throw the doubts away, inhale life with the dark - 
And neither men, nor horses of the king
Would hold me captive in the cage of Noah"s Ark,
And neither men, nor horses of the king,
Called by the heralds on disgraceful war,
Would find my traces and catch me for wing:
They"d get into the thicket and return no more...
But it was me who had to take their place,
Become the first prey of the hungry rack of dogs, 
Which feel the sweet blood, falling from my face...
Such thoughts of death are my exciting luscious drugs,
I need it cause the real death is near:
I hear it whining, cutting consciuosness by bing...
If I could kill my cowardice and fear,
I"d be there with men and horses of the king.