It is almost three I sit at the marble top sorting poems, miserable the little lamp glows feebly I don't glow at all I have another cognac and stare at two little paintings of Jean-Paul's, so great I must do so much or did they just happen the breeze is cool barely a sound filters up through my confused eyes I am lonely for myself I can't find a real poem if it won't happen to me what shall I do
Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:15 PM | Viewed: 6428 times
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