and then what do you do at night? I'm awake. I think. now I'm not counting almost as much for those few hours is no different. There are things here. everywhere. and it seems they have a great reputation for me: I get to slam in your face between three and four, when I bounce on words in French eyes as Paris the other night that I flew down and murmured. au revoir, chérie . I'm awake. I think. I scratch. tidying the room but making little noise as possible. is there any voice on the radio out there, that keeps me company. what I do. I do not know, I'm thinking. a few questions: women. rare poetry. money, even money, yes. from time to time. and try to understand how did I accumulate so much garbage inside me. I do not sleep because I seek an incinerator. there is enough to stay awake. all night.
0 comments:
Post a Comment