and she never came back

and she never came back
and they say i am fucking going mad
as i lick the tea bag
but they don't know
i can talk to cigarette buds
and i can rebuke humane
looking at the chopped woods
I can mop these clean floor again
i can wait whole night for a three line poem
i can fuck my hand like i am in french whorehouse
i can cook the korean pumpkins in my own style
I can heal my own pain whenever i want
i can lie to my love any time

Call me Drunk
Call me faggot
Call me Loser
Call me lover

but the night is mine
the bed is yours
so i unfold the night sky
and give away the stars
to the burried soldier
Mother earth is pregnant
with dead men and women
and she never came back
and they say i am fucking going mad
as i want to kiss all the cracked sad lips
of all girls in the world
but they don't know
i am the first flower that blooms
in Zinko tree in March
they dont know
I am beginning to convince them
with my kisses that they refused
on their way to their pointless point
where poets painters singers
revolutionaries, bureaucrats meet
greeting each other like they are the best kind
and i am never there
and they are beginning to fear
and she never came back