There are dark thoughts so that they will not even be shared.
I realize tonight, as his fingers slip on the keys carefully avoiding to say really.
Who said that only "material to be novel or something? Flaubert?
do not know, I do not remember, I'm confused.
it probably is, could probably become one.
O will become.
certainly can not remain forever locked in the short space between his eyes red and his fingertips.
Yet this evening can not get out.
Sometimes I just want to have a big eraser. And I wrote my life in light pencil marks.
0 comments:
Post a Comment