***************************************** to infinity***
******************************** of your steps
***********************but the prints
******************** I love
*************it is not you
***maybe
French version in '' Amour, French pieces ''
YOU ARE READING
trips
Poetrytalking about trips don't trip don't move don't groove sitting in street poverty such cross nailing you down in the tomb of lost paradise eating at your brain your eyes your infinite holes piercing the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie never gave you...
