I dwell in stupid occupations,
Forfeit the business due to bad taste,
A fear enters finding your opulence,
Must I feed on stupid acts longer?
Narrow is the sparrow's lunge,
Its wings curved by winds and its
Mitochondria, all is police for it.
I weigh the problems of my heart
With the lust of the swinging bride,
Who swings on a park ride, like
A soldier from war, praised by success
And welcomed by Paradise, she is blessed
Like a virgin, she is fed with divinity,
And the taste of the odour is concerning
A difficult pleasure of stranger quality.
This I revolve in my hands with stupidity,
Feeling the wedding with my ring,
For she is married to my head and heart
Liking the construction, destruction and role.
Topic(s) of this poem: marriage