“a violent, restless youth saturated with boredom”
after so many bodies on my body
entire days ripped to pieces by words
i’d still like to get my heart drunk
but we’re surrounded by smooth almost lucid men
slightly deteriorated by tobacco.
no love lost here
because this glorious youth will be captured in photos
beautiful photos good photos almost amusing ones.
i’d still like to get my heart drunk
but we’re surrounded by bland wine
people who write in the margins of the newspaper
who on used envelopes write I’m not alone
people who look out the window and faultlessly say:
that’s autumn, all water and wind.
who would dare to say anything else?
