viernes, 21 de marzo de 2014

XXII

All those nights of no sleep
       have wrinkled my skin.

All those nights spent among beers
              have rusted my liver.

All those nights with you gone
          have used up my soul.

And now I'm all
wrinkly
     rusty
        ghostly
moaning for you.

Come with me.
I want back my rest.
And don't forget the beers:
I like them fresh.