Poem: Hundred years

 

I prefer sincere smiles
those who shift the cheeks
I prefer pierced glances
by the nail shaped moon
I’ve got a jumping button from my jeans
It’s the extension of my gaiety
I’m a being on his unicycles
who sings a dirge
who devours poetry
who fattens because of the life
who dies in the exuberance
the crest of an asphodel
the bruise of a banana
a spotted sky
as you liked
to age together
when we’ll be hundred years-old

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s