No ambition

Poetry nowadays is just a
grip I’ve got (a)following the
advise of Henry Rollins.
I write verses to survive or,
more accurately, to find relieve.
Just the same as someone
who works in his garden or
practises sports after work.
No message, no hopes.
Just caprice.
Caprice.

This entry was posted on sábado, 11 de abril de 2015 at 8:58 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can feed this entry. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.

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