Smoke pours from my lungs in the rawness of a cold fall morning,
Purple lights and a forever lit jack-o-lantern surround my haze.
The toothy grin slowly succumbing to the decay
Of life and death and life again spreading the virus of eternity
The exhale engulfed by the shatter of sunlight
The owl in my willow tree screams
Who…..who
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem