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teen poetry

von unseren versteckten Plätzen
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken
haben wir keine Schande?
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
aber alas, gerade Träume
der Duft kam
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
traurig sprechend
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
warum

 



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