i am so tired
that my atoms have let go
of their orbits
now my aura has
sagged,
like lies always do.
God is laughing in a boiler room,
a roach burning his lips,
he has stretched his break
three millenia too long
and the bossman is pissed.
I'm riding an ant
thru the desert of chance
when i find you in a grain
and swallow all your pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
FANTASTIC imagination, who could ride an ant. thanks for sharing.md