My dementia undermines gorigoris November: Will
evicted. Some of the world
And I carry the soul inside, remaining flowers, kisses, tears shed.
An electric gun
hugs my forehead feathers in the heat of a tender.
As a fur coat covered with virgin
That envy the naked figure of Cassandra,
A wind hurls me insisting suicide. From November 1
cracked like a geyser, open
From November 1 to me like two legs, from the days
crush me.
Pain, an empty dream forced me
but got lost on the bones of kissing as
a monk who is lost in the breasts of a peasant.
history I have no burning like a mushroom cloud of ash,
not shake me Jesus with their aura of vultures calling
food but I peat, and everything just a drop of solitude without caring hands.
From November 1
boat come and I find another month to die.
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