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teen poems

sommeil, frère gris de la mort
certains des maux que vous avez traités
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
du soleil ni des étoiles
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
il y a un pays complètement de vin
nous qui se sont tenus
si j'étais très sûr
ombres étendues le long de broadway
vous vous rappelez

 



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