Lerock
Monsters, between midnight and midnight requiem
on your skin, a rich charcoal extreme, your skin
pious twenty-first century, knowingly gather,
and a hundred years without the baroque angel to
the windy, ice and October the bone
in France, your skin Bastille, sugar marriage
and sings
a prison whose bars are made of a symphony
suicide
But your hymen huge, which unpacks liar who
décarcasse, struggling in the night swarthy
mine
dance and dance to the body sick with fever,
bathed in the warm bath,
cigarettes and latex
frail at heart: I was lucky
strangles me a promise that everything blotting exorcises
S'étrange and tongue, my dear, as once beautifully,
your absence there taboos aorta
I remember as the day after a night in
smoke leaves,
mother smiles and laughs vile
bodices and petticoats fluttered, and time
games like butterflies who have drunk too much
Time now mine and railway
I pray out loud, cigar
on the railways what were your legs,
Mango
on the mattress, an Indian, sitting, seekers,
I miss your Pacific oceans
bale blind and onlooker, on the mattress,
Amidst the wave that crushes your memory
to saliva AIDS, if only
Love makes Borges
And I drink to impossible collections,
the light wax miracle
counting orgasms before falling asleep
monsters in you intertwines, fierce,
Mango
between me and me and fingers, arabesques,
enjoy- sucker me in the day I married
distracted by the year of your eyes in your throat
dagger jellyfish, mists and sonatas,
and mausoleums of your lies immolate,
in an evil hour I rang, I live just
,
live in other industrial fires,
melancholy cries of your winter
you breathe sulfur queen of my dreams
When very drunk, j 'went scintillating
your thighs to Pharaohs and tender, tenderly, as
again j'absinthe and gold blades in
more suffocating without you
the sweet burn your neck coffin
your neck mad, mad, and owls
syllables in your eyes if valve
between your legs, I proceeded jaguar, where I flew
thief
You talk with your mad smile tawny wine, you speak without
true
I forgot the taste of your mascara so your tears as
mints
Cold, silent, hymen liar, liar,
the rage of fireworks, prisons as lovers
and run, run,
far, far,
your skin, your skin
I washed in time to say
Since I got myself a finger in mourning, I washed the
ink.
