I like it as the cows watch me
pass by staring into my nothingness
they care as tractors sow despair
and Pan blows up in chemical fare
I feel we share the same field
they understand me
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
trips
कविताtalking about trips don't trip don't move don't groove sitting in street poverty such cross nailing you down in the tomb of lost paradise eating at your brain your eyes your infinite holes piercing the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie never gave you...
