pindaric flies

Long sleeves over

blue and red rivers

rubber strings

suppurating white wyrms

born in blistering volcanoes

clinch to cure

violet inkjet

gossamer, inject

a sketch on the floor

snort, I’m anymore

I’m yours

air from windows in my mouth

whistle. Hurts the thistle.

a long sleeve to conceal

Steal

child with chalk on the nose

curls of smoke

a talking hood

paint and glue

to make an artwork

linger like haze

in my brains

I’m am so light

push around

hit the ground

an infant fell from the car

a tragedy he survived

It’s eight o’ clock in the morning

enter the gates

Nuns. Sticks.

I grew up in pain

nothing I can feel

now. Except that one.

When you left me.

That was sore.

I digress. I guess.

Guess is my certainty.

If I ever get an answer

that means I have to be killed.

I explain. I would be dead already.

Don’t you think?

flamboyante

Poison. Je regret ta bouche

mors, levres saignant.

Le Savant!

What a beautiful word! Savant!

He who knows. He the dead.

glimmering under lights

would you mind a kiss?

Stick my dick.

It’ll shine after me. My vanity

Narcisus

I thought I’d be the last man

seeing that Sun bright.

Now I sell myself.

girls want only that from me

If I ain’t an oxymoron

I write beautiful

and I do good sex. yes I mean to brag.

I’m not tall though. Not at all. Neither a dwarf.

Sinew, I do always burn the flame of lust

That’s all I could get from a woman. Now I know.

I walked up the stairs

schooltime, the gates, the nuns.

Ain’t this Ironic? Catholic teachings

I grew up an atheist.

It’s hard to rest

200 km per hour in a car

I don’t want you to slow down though

let’s crash.

You ain’t gentle leaving me

throwing me

in front of the hospital

Pindaric flies =)