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 May 2015 Jinsen Jeanne
axr
I kick on the pedals of the bicycle I never rode.
I swallow my pride
I saw stars flow.
The sun buries itself
Craters on the moon turn dark.
Brothels know they have failed.
If only I could make more sense.

I kiss the child who was never born.
I tell his mother to come back at dawn.
Deserts turn cold
yet she cries.
The merchant knows his lies.
The warrior throws himself down the well
If only I could make more sense.

I burn all the flowers which never bloomed,
Fire spreads in it's wrath.
sailors drowned in the ocean of fury
Lava escapes into our tent.
If only I could make more sense
I don't know how i feel about this

— The End —