Mittwoch, 21. November 2012

Scribble #10

Beneath King Lealands sorry rage
we found a hidden spot
a columbus massacre
where a pavillon used to stir
sheeps out into a meltingspace
where air and lust vanish
in a dusted desert hotel kiss
left, kiss right, goodbye,
a broken handshake kicks
the climate wonders as obsession
as if they ate plants made from girl hair,
a wonderful golden monster ballon in a castrate theatre

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