A crawler in the hair


She hit me in the face with a smell of cigarette,
Stronger than mine: time had alzheimer.
Had no face, grace was not her mania,
Just like Arthur Rimbaud, plus a vagina.

Felt like her teeth were huge and doublewhite,
Tongue had scratches, kloofs filled with roaches,
Words of wisdom under her chin, crawling up,
self claiming self esteem, belittling the rest.

No romance, clouds of non-LSD dreams,
Who knocked the door? Leave it open.
Letters generated by words, BS around, no music,

Muses chewing drumsticks, chew, chew, chew, no more order.

Green fairy left a flower and a sugar, we’re all sober,
Tik-tak, a new world order,
Pass the bill, pay your home owner,
Disperse your fart, turn the TV, scratch the balls , maybe yours? No boner.

Rolling, rolling, rolling a dream ball,
She left, let it, not your business, moving on…
Oh, who’s crawling in mama’s womb? Another bomb? Moving on.

Had a crawler in her hair, a fat one, no one saw,
It spoke with me in Esperanto: didn’t get it.
Why should it make sense though? Don’t get it.