Páteční chvilka poezie

Feel like it

you
look like it
me
aching out of silence
your
mischief in the dance
married
for too long
sex
often as a monk
my
cancer multiplies happily
your
anger grows fuckingly
live
as you wish
let
me be your dish
full
of God's dark shit
so
that you can spit
in
my unbearded chin
and
scream: "Fuck off Hey-chin!"