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Question And Answer

Rating: 2.9
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.
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COMMENTS
Fabrizio Frosini 23 April 2016
thanks to Daniel Horne (below) for posting the full version
6 0 Reply
Mary X 15 September 2006
This is a terrible rendition of this brilliant poem, whoever put it on here should be hung. Not only is it incomplete but it is also set out disgustingly wrong.
6 0 Reply
Joshua Martinson 09 June 2005
There is more to this poem and I am wondering why it's not there.
5 0 Reply

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