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writing poetry

a luz retirada
esse ano
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
os dias melancólicos vieram
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
melancolia, azul era
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
lá pela janela na casa velha
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você

 



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