Reflexiones y quebraderos de cabeza de un caminante sin camino.
sábado, noviembre 05, 2011
Mejillones despechados comen queso de cabra
Apasionado de la indiferencia, preso del tiempo. Ser un muerto en vida, ser en muerte un muerto.
No te fumes mis besos.
1 comentario:
Mr. Cohen
dijo...
This is the only poem I can read I am the only one can write it Others seem to think the past can guide them My own music is not merely naked It is open-legged It is like a cunt and like a cunt must needs be houseproud I didn't kill myself when things went wrong I didn't turn to drugs or teaching I tried to sleep but when I couldn't sleep I learned to write I learned to write what might be read on nights like this by one like me
1 comentario:
This is the only poem
I can read
I am the only one
can write it
Others seem to think
the past can guide them
My own music
is not merely naked
It is open-legged
It is like a cunt
and like a cunt
must needs be houseproud
I didn't kill myself
when things went wrong
I didn't turn
to drugs or teaching
I tried to sleep
but when I couldn't sleep
I learned to write
I learned to write
what might be read
on nights like this
by one like me
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