Fears that the
escalator to get
down to the
parking lot
stifling you..
The
Pile does not end.
Cars together as people
do not let you go
pass between.
This madness.
Clutch with madness on your mop.
Underground garage
A book of poems
Born yesterday
Crushed
Claw.
Instead of hands
Cold metal
Prosthesis
Still silent.
I'm bleeding on the way
not sold
not enough
Gorgeous
Not enough
Poet
Are you afraid?
are you afraid?
are you afraid?
not to be
shown
as a
Po-et
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem