My cherry perfume,
and my linen skirt,
wild and white don't together,
nevertheless I pray.
Associate youth with innocence,
and blood with violence,
associate boys with sports,
and girls with shorts.
Love the way you separate nature,
challenge reality,
'cause the youngest speak the harshest,
'cause no colour is associated with violence.
On the top of this mountain,
this distant mountain,
I am burdened.
I am baffled,
I am puzzled.
There's water and sky,
land moist and dry.
Jouska happens alone,
even when you're not on your own,
it's an individual act,
in a crowded circus,
packed sack.
Sampaguita,
sumpa kita,
I'll wear my sunglasses when it rains,
be swallowed by desidolia,
the separation never ends.
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Author:
Ερμίνα (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 5th, 2026 12:34
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1

Offline)
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