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myspace poem

sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
Material des Mondes
von der Sonne noch Sterne
ich sterbe
Bewegung Ihres Körpers ist wie Musik
hatten er und i aber getroffen
ca. beschwerte sich zum Meister
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
Sturm
schöne, tragical Gesichter
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege

 



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