Spare parts
Who has ever touched the well of ink with no fear that his thirst will stay insatiable?Some certain ransom in this agony, To write, to tell, recount, recite… That majesty of lying and signing that purified fraud a story is, How shameless could be asking a poem ask you things instead of me, And who is me? Some certain freedom in this rhapsody, To touch, to smell, to taste and bite… That alchemy of hiding by carrying that glorified mask a hero is, How aimless of me asking ten pens what they’ve sensed that I c...
