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sex poem

je tiens votre coeur
voyez que je me donne vous
hors de la mer de scintillement
c'est l'arsenal
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
laissez-moi être triste
l'aube était vert pomme
ne soyez pas faux
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans

 



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