I m the mother of your feelings
our irrational love generates
pretty monsters
and the hidden dreams and nightmares
revealed
make fantasies be real
impulsive needs expressed
free us from madness
as in autumn the dead leaves
rot into new life
there is no conclusion to this
only lazy awareness
polluted cycles still
keep rolling around
purified cycles still
keep rolling about
I m never bored
but surprises turn
into cold glass.
Glass is too fragile and
it cuts_Hearts bleed_
eyes get blind_Fury rises
to balance indifference.
I hate artificial glitter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem