imaginea utilizatorului Virgil

we don’t exist
we just try
looking thru the thick bottle bottom glass
we float inside loneliness
like ephemerides
please don’t think of us
don’t even mention us during dinner
or during those long hours of idle talk
when rain never stops
and the dreams are grey
nobody knows our plan
but we try
to escape the dictionary
and the perpetual tendency
to exist


it is a ..

'grey' text..which reminds me of London..So all I have to do is look out the window (through the thick double-glazed window) and see your poem..:p
It fits well with November..