December 2008
2 posts
the last (bi)cycle
every day and time the sadness the first step to madness when one stands still with the daily amusement of the beginning not being sure about the mindless ending the clever one yet dumb the fuck the perfect one I can’t get the rhythm neither live in the same place I’ve been in the somewhere far away always standing over the same fucking disgrace no idea where to go ...
what I care about poetry
there is no time left for us to write there are blades they cut heads out at sight if we deny our right if we try and remember pain for denial if they stop this non-sense and smile we’ll always regret the night and day and sit down as masters of a slave writing and screaming mad and vicious fulfilled with desire we trigger the heart for a bullet to come and wave distinctly for someday out...