I Die of Thirst Beside the Fountain
they pass & i turn
but you know this
the act
revolves around itself
my time
goes marked by letters, some
enthusiasms vanish, in arguing
with you i've used up many books but
the work is too much. i have no
energy
to mould them sky darkens now
the snow is grey sounds of cooking a
movement of plates
this room is cold
and i'm in trouble
