An apple, a fig, an apricot
One night driving in the middle
shadows here and there stretching
I met this morning, you carry me, you see I breathe
wind turbine blades are fixed and they scoff at the winter sweats
Basin boats drop me opportunities, already in its reflections of my delusions ...
is pending, an easy trick to understand, that reminds me of my weaknesses, that reminds me of the delights
... Eyes that send a mixed message to the South, I believe, I am functioning as illusion
And new horizons possible prowess Upcoming
It remains as scents, shapes and sensations to discover
So weird music, son of unrolling, and losing myself of crap to predict
Work has begun, and the choices focused
trenches in the waves, the concepts referred and baptized
Sweet and savory sauces, which I will like to take advantage of negligees
traps, chasms, mirages, I try to avoid
blades to counter, miles to tell shorelines in sighs
Canoeing misses my boat so light, I keep my start to drive me
My money, not on the account, I'm out of range, I ducked the rout
My hero is dressed, he subtracts, adds, and it reinforces the prediction ... acid, base ... pie
plotting a coup; dressed for the cold, will afford one more drop of water ...
rushes into the hole, it passes through excess, film, shoot ... sexual
S follows the bubble rises, falls, rises and yet ... yet .... Better that we leave ...
It's better that we leave some time ... to find themselves again in this life, not the contrary and without doubt to fall on ...
A lamp, a bed, a swan on the asphalt
An orange solid pulp that turns on itself to the sound of a flute
The reserve, over time, which is lost when I smoke
It is, just there, she knows what fate With crude
found half naked in the mist meditating
Abandon what she seeks and finds that cost cost
A vacuum, a solid, a middle
A tree, a field, an elf who beats
Jerome Delvita © 2009 Éditions Rue Francois Porche LOC 35.37 16100 Cognac
