maanantai 26. syyskuuta 2016

Too many lonely

The smell of a life of death
smells somewhere,
please rate your shoes off
legs, and rushed away
Run musky scented
Too many lonely
the arms of the night position to give
of man to take root stick
a cycle of pain.
I watch a little
I write a story,
Night screw threads
closed circuit pain in the back
side. I at night
often I dress Eve
configuration, or a cold strikes
attached to the skin of the Moomin shirt.
Longing pounds of coffin
nails, and a man's aging
prematurely hurt too much.
Joensuu poetry night
states, forgetfulness whispers
its mouth. Street lamp under
light moths calls.
Butterflies are sleeping
obediently somewhere warm.
I was as ripe grain crops
I would like to cry quietly,
but the grief is dried
  big pieces on top of the breast
sore throat snack.
Now reverse the goat circuit
gone with the time and
the future of dance calls.

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