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math poem

diz de épocas velhas boas
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
temos nós nenhum shame?
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
um pássaro cantou
eu vi com olhos abertos
deixe-me ser sad
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred

 



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