I am looking for troubles,
Again,
See my rolled-up sleeves
Perfume with sandal
and musk,
Salty rain on my lips
Engaged in woolgathering
I behave like i am fine,
Sporadic ideas,
A bottle of wine
Only dry and only red,
My poor brain
I make you sweat ,
I make you nurture all the threat
A sword of Damocles
hanging over my head,
I have no capacity
to stop
all this woolgathering
and to love
my tired body,sanguine soul...
My messages are garbled
I am not ready to fall,
Not yet,
Just a migraine,
Chuck Berry is gone...
So what?Who cares?
Nobody...
We all are moving up the stairs,
Hey you!
Make the music louder,
”Maybellene” is playing
Mosquito on my shoulder
Give me the gun
I am not going to shoot…
just making some fun
of all of you ..
Surreal world,
Entourage or reality?
No need for words
Show me your
personality...
nerves are nettled,
i will take some time
to change,
to move,
to settle,
All good,
If i only stop woolgathering.