I come from the fountain to the lyrics of the laziness and the grocery, and to sit on all the necks to sit on the knee of his forty pieces of his long shirt to the brown of his hair, his tears and urgency that I shed on his skirt, and no one, and no one.
I sleep slowly and say poetry and sleep on the wake and I sleep and sleep so that they can tear asleep.
Now because I dont smell, I wont smell anymore.
To another
Rubbing
To property
To us
To my mother
I dedicate to my mother. This poem
If I do, I would
The hair of my mothers seam doesnt go to God
Wont go my mother anywhere, except for God
Dave and Perry have thrown back - who except my father
My mothers seam, Mawlane in my mothers hinges does not go TV-I am sweet.
It means my birth, us, or everyone else!
I can head the parrots pseudo -shovel at the atheism of Nietzsches atheism and read the same as the cruel parrot, which is correct. D
The podium on my hand let me go nowhere
Who brought God to his many even
That God is Marius and can none of the Quran and brew the green of the green, and with the atheists of the Dave and the fairy, the head!
To my mother
I dedicate to my mother. This poem
If I was happy
The poetic love of the forty thousand brothers of the Danish Ice Prince of Ice Prince and anything else
Do not get to the black foot of her delicious green food that fell from my mothers hand.
Where in that moment?
Where are you nail Mayakovsky?
That my mother dives to the door where the hair does not go to the God who has a seam and seams that God and does not see my mother.
To my mother
I dedicate to my mother. This poem
If it is good
