One day
I started writing
poems...
or
at least
something
I thought
resembled you
in the morning
after sex:
tangled
ideas,
naked
skinny
adjectives,
on too much paper,
going out of my way
to look
like an idiot.
You see,
I knew
somewhere
you were already
having sex
and I thought
to tell you
I knew
you were
having sex.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it! Its very demanding and sharp and witty. Gets straight to the point. Red Skye