Sleep with me my incomplete poem we share the same taste the same fragrance let them be confused and detached & disgusted we can play with then, with the chaos, the disturbance Im not like the gods who write and sleep i will weave you and wear you, you will define my tense when the brown winds will choke my eyes my ears the dust of time will fill all my sense i will open ur knots u will reach ur epitome then fall like words, bounce on the land make streams of sentence no one would read and that’s what we want cause u hate to be a story, i don’t need remembrance..
