Poems from MyDearOuroboros
Student, writer, usually suffering from writer's block, easily obsessed. Usually write in English, but sometimes also Latin or German.
Sweet child, why have you left these green fields,Tall trees and swaying buildings beckon.Your chilled palms mock my burning cheeks,They'...
Ten MinutesI grab the first barthe bell chimes the endto come- it calls meout, and the next barbeckons my worn handI swing across...
My god,he says as the train hurdles pasta hundred other men standing just like himlooking out from behind the panes of glassor maybe...