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erotic poem

je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
je suis le vent qui hésite
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
voyez, ils retournent
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
complètement des larmes
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort

 



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