alleszins niet écht in onze badkamer,- want die is weg...
1 opmerking:
Anoniem
zei
Dammit I’m mad. Evil is a deed as I live. God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt. To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss. Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help? Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell. I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”. Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp, In my halo of a mired rum tin. I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin. Is evil in a clam? In a trap? No. It is open. On it I was stuck. Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web. Be still if I fill its ebb. Ew, a spider… eh? We sleep. Oh no! Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position. Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name. Both, one… my names are in it. Murder? I’m a fool. A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash, A Goddam level I lived at. On mail let it in. I’m it. Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet! A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name. Name not one bottle minus an ode by me: “Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog” Evil is a deed as I live. Dammit I’m mad.
Bestel de romans van Vitalski. Mail vitalski3@gmail.com
Het Geheim van de Yggdrasil
De Moord op Servais Verherstraeten
Before Them Corona Blues
Mary Shelley Schreef Frankenstein
Het Spookkasteel
De Kempenkrak
De Integrale Jerry Bill
De Naam van het Rendier
Chef-Kok
Het Verborgen Rijk
De Aap van Charles Dickens
IJsberen Kunnen Skateboarden
Live On Stage
Monsterbusters
Edgar Allan Poe in Fordham
Afscheid op Kerstavond
Met Luv naar de Spoed
De Edelfigurant
Ik droomde dat ik Wakker Werd
De Indringer
Terugkeer naar het Rattenkasteel
Ik Slaap als een Croissant
Op Sterk Water
De Geur Van Nat Haar
Behekst
1 opmerking:
Dammit I’m mad.
Evil is a deed as I live.
God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.
To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.
Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?
Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.
I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.
Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,
In my halo of a mired rum tin.
I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.
Is evil in a clam? In a trap?
No. It is open. On it I was stuck.
Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.
Be still if I fill its ebb.
Ew, a spider… eh?
We sleep. Oh no!
Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.
Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.
Both, one… my names are in it.
Murder? I’m a fool.
A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash,
A Goddam level I lived at.
On mail let it in. I’m it.
Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!
A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.
Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:
“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”
Evil is a deed as I live.
Dammit I’m mad.
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