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dark poetry

le maître des destins humains suis moi
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
l'obscurité
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
peut-être
dans la terre silencieuse
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
j'ai dit, j'ai fermé mon coeur
avec les yeux doux et bruns

 



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