JS (december 12,1978 / bandar sakti north sumatra)



the fallen elan is a dying moke
a wiz turns into a dolt, doesn't ken ava but mope
devoid of mot, an oaf's remarks uttered
by the pothered man, tottering away by the inlet

ever so wee, my crib is broken into pieces
like an oater watched in a laziness
gabbing no sound in confusing grimace
by the rom who needs no kados

no ole expected for I am being compromised
by crashing the aerola gate of the life after death
small creatures are dancing the strangest hula
swaying altogether like a garden of begonia

I am not on the earth
everything isn't land but fen
I fathom no existence of birth
all around just weird, bizarre and insane

by the tor standing an axis with its broken wings
goggling at me as a fave for his pica
I wist that it is the time to a journey
a journey of my eerie death
waiting for a punishment of all sins that I made

I see you in the HELL! ...

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