15.12.03

Poema automático


blanket
hornet
dove
kitten
whirlwind
get ache of spoon
in the bloody end
the device from the first copy
fist
all of me
when the sky turn to grey
when you make your bed
i´ll turn to sleep

fry
the hips
that may hide
your hand is my gun
my favorite gun

all
all the fake
you have to take
on the roof
on the sand
let me break
my finger chill
upon the glass
upon my willow
can the bloody ache have a final?
c mon
a nice one
let me taste de words of your back
let me try with the long road in your ears
let me snooze one more time
tell me something I do not know
and take the fucking light off

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