Cloged as a sink my bald brain is
Silk, snaky moss and holy water fills it
Siphon greenly festers
Putrid thoughts lazily slither in the remains
Wildness! Wildness! Wildness!
Golden gong resounds!
...
Archaic sound dabs my feet and chops the mind
Its sound heralds the fate of inevitable dawn
Yes!Yes!Yes!
Thirsty saxophone cockles the red night in Singapore
Black river crimples as the sound liberates the desire
Wrath and lust of our ancestors speaks in the mist
On the mossy, wooden boat we all sway
I'm gone! I'm gone! I'm gone
Give away everything, on the desert
Hermit follows his path
No water!! No water!
No air to breathe.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
The glass trips, champagne streams
On the crisps-filled tiles, where i lay
Quiet when I'm coming home!
Wake! Wake! Wake!
Run! Run! Run!
YOU ARE READING
The tea
PoetryThe tea appeared once in my think collection therefore i though it is the most genuine literary thought i wanted to develop upon.
