I live in the grass
Sometimes they lure me to the doorway
With promises of wine
But they punch my stomach
They burn my eyes
My crying sounds like laughter
And the heavy minds have melted ears
So they never come out
They never come
They never
I wander the fields
The night cold stings my skin
And when it turns into morning
I begin looking for the body I heard about
But the grass is at my waist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i can really dig the physical feel of the poem. i can really feel it! !