Walking Around

Walking Around It so happens I am sick of being a man. And it happens that I walk into tailor shops and movie houses dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes. The smell of barbershops makes me break

Rain happens into my room at night, when there is so much time to miss you. Beautiful changes I've seen sometimes, the clouds changing into reindeer and flying to places clear of sorrow. Walking around. You know I've had enough of this trouble follow