Yako Pyerst
What I supposed to be your hands
Were imagination’s schemes
Wrapping round my throat
Stand where I’ve never been
And where I’ll never go
Until it’s out fashion
This is the sound of me bouncing of the walls
This is my answer, but nobody called
Suck saccherine and hope
I can fool myself /but it’s no substitute
Cut the lines of supply
Arteries run dry
As I turn my back
Now i leave as you saw me first
Alone and proud,
An outsretched finger, a body cursed
Yako Pyerst