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suicide poetry

um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
sabe uma liberação barata
não se aflija que sobre
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
ruídos que strive rasgar
faça exame de meus bracelets
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas
caras bonitas, tragical
quem ama a chuva
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
como águias na elevação ascendente
têm você andar visto através da vila
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo

 



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