From your face
To your throat,
Your chest
To your phallus,
Everything
Belongs to
Me.
I’m thirsty.
Come and
Quench me.
I have a feeling that, that 'Quench' will never end. Its like a fire, the more you feed it, the hotter it burns with desiers.
Like it. Short and sweet. A really great poem. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, For Paul Blackburn. Its a trur story.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quench me....! is really an eternal and unheard call from the burning earth, it seems the call hasn't reached up to the watery clouds.And ofcourse the life lies between a call and a reply.