Burning storm of black rose
Laugh your hands, your pose
Rub to red knees, to blood
Knocking the wound repelling dirt
Breathing fire, he cauterizes, my God
The sky reeling like a cold pool
You look at me like a fool
Angry groan and crush your teeth
The wound sucks itself yellow rot
Thin film of rain covers a lot
Black, wet blood porridge falls from his feet
Covered with pimples, pale meat
Red snowflakes bloomed in the eyes
Sticking needles like waves surging blood
Breathing fire, he cauterizes, my God
***
© Copyright: Виктор Ольберш, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119052301213
Свидетельство о публикации №119052301213
Рецензии