indian ink

...

because you were a lady
I wrote poetry and went trash
and was not in the fit nor suitable
for you were those times a kiss-kiss and it’s all over now
golden smell of love and innocence
you spoke so cute and hard, you, shine eyes
you sat on my mind melting as honey and garbage under the rain
pure intoxication of the moon, the plague of pleasure and thought's surrender
forget me not even if I was nothing but smoke
…
poésie d’une poitrine de silicone
pitre salivation d’un prêtre
et je te clone pour plus de satisfaction
…
horrible será el pastel de la luna
en el rostro celeste
lúbrico y feroz el matrimonio rosa de los astros
como todas las cosas
…