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erotic poetry

quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
qual se mantem
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
mulher boa
simplicity
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
a fragrância veio
melhore do que o granito
eu resido na montanha da tabela
eu moldei o mundo
ame-me no último, ou se você não
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo

 



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