The letters trembling

empty sky, warm air, but I was shivering in my own poetry. requesting letters written in blood. inpain tears

convulsive trembling letters replied hunting: "false love, reckless lust! What you hear in the fieldexecution of yelled sad?

"Do you want to write poems of love, when justice abused?" Said a voice. and I hum crazy.

yes, we too much talking, arguing that only can be felt, in our own breasts.

There is nothing out there, do love being debated, tropical hot air creeps but I love to spell riddle

I imagine there are pieces of snow-gliding from the sky was empty, gray sky, when the creepslooking at the window