ONCE again im walking into a storm,
we have our coats on, and in our
empty dirty hands, tiny white pills.
ONCE again i craw into this bathroom,
and find stink, and a shadow with a
smile, or a saint with a knife.
MY eyes, abandone this light,
my body, snaps to attention,
my mind, waltzes into this bipoler
mode, and just like that, , i fly.
A sad condition that takes up too much of life, a profound write here David, though heart-breaking, love Duncan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
DAVID...GOOD USE OF IMAGERY...GRAPHIC, BUT IN A TASTEFULL VEIN(10) ! ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''~F. J. R.~'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''