Life's made of faces and all in time of time
The differences of character-type were fed by broccoli
and sent to burberry weekly.
I disliked to type and typeface and no verses
but I wouldn't border myself to all that.
Phone bill and rent money and effervescent vitamin
coding integers, my decomposing fear.
After short and long period of days
I would like the old fashion way.
You were true to mom and dad and gods
to your compulsion ever testified.
You gave me a green glimpse that's type of traps
bending your head, you type on: all faces.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem