"teater" poems
Cardboard etchings of black roses
Floating fish eyed weary in amongst the rot and ruined
Soft humming echos off filth-water calm surfaces
Mirror and smoke coalescing into desert mirage *******
Those words must be salvaged
Baiting me into lyrical euphoria
Sharp edges cutting deep into the leathery, narcoleptic hide of my soul
Easing warm and quiet into all of my dark, secret crevices
Anxious to keep them safe
The walls sag and teater on the brink of Titanic tragedy
Watching it sink I pull inside every memory
Every taste, touch, bite of young, untrained teeth
An empty space where just gray shades reigned
Now growing cardboard black roses
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC
sad på bremen teater
og brændte sambuca af sammen med en fyr
spurgte efter hans alder
der gik lidt tid fordi han var bange for
at jeg ville synes han var for gammel
39 sagde han så
du er jo ung
var mit svar
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC