sexta-feira, 22 de julho de 2016


Oh boy, we meet every nigth
showing me draws for poems
cuddling ex-lovers and rare lands,
allways in a hurry, escaping
from the sadness of a past life:
both afraid of dying again
in each other arms.

Oh boy, you will know me best
by the sunset of life:
sleeping less Darma troubles
I'll kiss a very old traveller,
your mouth speaking 100 women
and every writen word to come.

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