Oh, how many reckless thoughts
The mind is running from all over.
When words and even numbers,
Suddenly a hint of love…
Poet, touch the Reader
To perfect the art,
It's not a coincidence,
That you were chosen as The Muse's favorite.
Confessions want, attention
And the mug is filled to the brim,
But not wine – green tea,
What the old woman's wife brought.
Sleepy at the table,
Sleep naked Girl.
You give yourself away with a smile,
Kissing, hiding a Stranger.
She will leave to return,
Lot of mistresses accepting.
I just want to Wake up at least once,
To itself desirable having pressed.
A dream, covered with a poem,
Catty and mother of pearl,
Drawing an image of defiance,
A Narcissistic Lady Bitch.