you're so stubborn.
in the peak of my concerns,
blind folded,
i run through your mattress.
why should i care for your bleeding?
this isn't my mood
it's just the block and tackle
for anesthesia.
rut rut rut,
there's a blister right over the table.
if you dare,
help yourself two pills.
my sacrarium is full.
8 comentarios:
este verso: why should i care for your bleeding?
uf. uf. uf. La sangre, Sibila, la sangre. Cómo duele la sangre. There are virgins playing on the ground and hemophiliacs flying to the moon.
No se porque pero me acordé de estas estrofas al leer tus increibles versos... "Heaven and Hell, I know them well, but I haven't yet made my choice". Besos,
y qué buenas sus palabras, flor. tan de este mundo y tan fuera del mundo.
y cómo duele.
cada palabra es siempre el recuerdo de una palabra que antecede. gracias, john. es una alegría verlo por acá.
beso.
there's a blister
;)
sure there is, my dear friend.
"why should i care for your bleeding?"
:)
entonces, why should we?
saludo, p.
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