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suicide poetry

diga-me não
eu tive um medo em minha vida
este é o arsenal
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
melhore do que o granito
ao longo de um river-side
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
como águias na elevação ascendente
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
fora do mar sparkling
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
para trás, gire para trás

 



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