Sunday, 23 September 2012


When my ring finger and the pinkie sleeps my cigarettes become cone-like. It usually happens when I'm lying down supporting my head with the right hand letting some crap tv enter my void. Outside two residents from the sheltered living house shout drunken shouts and the rain has stopped.

a star in the east
I haven't heard my name
for some days now

1 comment:

  1. JOHANNES, my friend! I was calling your name, and I was not drunk!
    You're a great poet! This is extraordinary!
    Publish it!
    I read it again! My English is just too poor to say all I want to say! Thanks!