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teen poem

il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
vous dites que vous m'aimez
si perdu
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
écoutez
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
nous qui se sont tenus
mélancolie, bleu il était
un orage monte sur la marée

 



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