Speak to the
Walls
And they listen to me
And irritate me
In silence
And some cracks
Cry pras walls
And they will stare at me
And suffocating
Between peeled paint
And dirt
More than the throat that couldn't
The voice reaches a time without end
And the dead leaves on the floor
-from another station-
Still are beautiful
Are still perfect
Are still
Phallus pras people
And they are avoiding me
And i tire
With fads and some implications
Cry pras people
And they esnobam me
And fawn over
Between interests
And passions
