From “The Songs of August”
I want to submit a draft on self-destruction,
To call it off, to call the love off,
To extract it from under my skin,
Do you think we need to talk?
Well, don’t we? Don’t we talk?
Every day after the craziness,
Idiocy, randomness,
Disorder, incongruity…
One fell for you - weren’t you delighted?
Ain’t it nice…
When you’re adored…
I'm sorry, dear, time is out,
This is the dish,
Here is the trout,
You’ve tried the fish,
Please, wash the dish -
That’s what it’s all about.
A Littlе While
© Copyright: Пол Фил, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №215040601437
Свидетельство о публикации №215040601437
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