Should I muzzle my pores, should I put them in a leash?
they snap at life a bit too much…
My longings are fiddlers made of old wax
on a paper boat and
the Sun is sliding even closer today
Something is about to happen, an imminent love or the climax about which
we’ll talk in past tense, because longing must be nurtured constantly
Should I put my pores and my thoughts
in the area that is spiritualized in a faulty manner? – the heresies passed as lyricism
give away everything and head for the wilderness?
Enough to shed the shirts of major plans..
– I appreciate the gesture but, please, don’t block my Sun
Let me melt without the benefit of friendly shadows, this today is unique for me..
Dovrei mettere museruole ai miei pori, dovrei metterli in un guinzaglio?
troppo cercano per mordere dalla vita
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