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gothic poetry

non ci č moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
siete svegli?
facce belle e tragical
quando vado di nuovo a terra
piantiamo
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
la luce ritirata
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
dio

 



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