Inedito,  Poesia


I would forsake
All the words I’ve ever known,
For all the worlds I’ve ever known
Now seem out of place, and dull.

And in eternal constipation
Of my mind’s expression,
I would wander in this waste land,
And wondering
About truth and about you.

“Go on, speak!”
You may tell me so,
And I don’t know if I will answer
“No can do, I’m out of blood”
While ink and sheet flow down upon
Throughout the light that once here shone.

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