Clown's heart

Sometimes you dig things in the teeth

toothpick between, then

they do not bother me anymore.

The World in the eyes of näekö

this internal clown's heart?

The madness of honey most lips

kisses me again, it will continue

until white

clean snow is on the ground.

I have inside me the whole

Ocean noise filled

words that tend to sea

foam to flow much freedom.

I'd come to me, you quit

The Kiss my lips

turn off this moment

longing. I then pliable

as supple willow,

humble ourselves to rest on the lap

man. Am I the only path

which leads past you, or

I can find the way to your place?

I write for nothing

this longing, sad for you?