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break up poem

Blüten der Babys
fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-Faßraum
tat Sie hören überhaupt
die Wiese kroch
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
meine sorge, wenn sie hier mit mir ist
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld

 



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