Even with you there's still only me.
Hurriedly I scratch a scribble
in the mud
Mired in my self.
Can't find my stash, can't find my keys
All that's left are likelihoods of mes.
Creative madness, no time for pause,
Pursing lips, purring, stretching claws
I'll rake this ratty rationality.
Let's scream together, find
sense in feeling,
Fleet footed we'll go reeling -
Insanity's appealing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem