| Tuesday, August 17, 2004 |
| just a blanket |
The baby is crying between your legs
in the monster you have you are cries cries cries
me deaf poisoned Gods spiting voices on my lungs
soft orange bulls are to epilepsy no epilepsy no but anesthesia
give me a fucking break
I found boredom in your forehead godless boredom
not unhappiness yet but boredom
uncomfortable write the lakes slapping who cares about tears
insane rhythm
—maybe—
reading nails cleaning a prophetic dream
grab your empty bottle fingers along waters I know
some relief
excessive to feel
etcetera
if you are baby you are unconscious you don’t know pain love death
when I was older it happened but stones were hard before arrows of rice and blood
the mush
the stench
no smell
no life no
ataraxia
collapsed minds desert
bisolitude
licking licking licking the hell
silenceness
the thief of stones
so
but when
undoubtedly
you remain
give me the intensity of the unreadable
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posted by MORGAR @ 2:13 PM  |
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| About Me |
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Name: MORGAR
Home: India
About Me: Soy periodista y me gusta la poesía. Trabajo en la India.
See my complete profile
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