Unsuccessful recreations kill...
The body, soul and mind.
And those of innovative spirits.
As time stoppers watch...
Drugged on past performances,
Of a youthful grabbing of a crotch.
And nothing can redo them from wanting,
Hoping and dreaming for that one more hit.
One more deposit of fantasticness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem