So far, I don't know

ylq123 · Geregistreerd op: 14 Mei 2019 Berichten: 45

So far, I don't know what text I wrote, what it is. But I use it as a poem in my heart. Therefore, I claim that ��the nine-flow poet does not need too much restraint in my pen. I am a horse running in the sky, a fish in the upper reaches of the grassland, a bird flying in an innocent ocean. In short, in the world of poetry, I am both myself, and my own soul is drunk by rock, loved by words, burnt by spirits, and chatted with cigarettes. It is a existence that is independent of the body and personality. I call it my shadow as my most intimate friend. No matter how much pain, no matter how many sorrows and tears, they have always been my most loyal listeners in the midst of the sun and the wind. In my mind, there is often such a picture: three of us sit together beside the river Marlboro Cigarettes, in the stars, on the moon, one is singing a guitar, one is drinking a big world, one is I smoked my cigarettes, my eyes were lost, and I was already confessed to my deep friends. My mind, in general terms, is my thinking, and it is different from ordinary people. Therefore, in my poetry (for the time being, it is poetry), don't be surprised by my way of crossing the sky. Don't be surprised by my infatuated picture connection technique, don't be surprised by my grassy text form. Don't be surprised by my metaphor about each word of each word. In short, don't be surprised at me. Regarding everything, the words that are said to be a world are overlapping with the world we live in. However, in the world of words, there is no such thing as life in the world. Whenever I experience something I am facing some of my inner resistance. I will swim with my soul and shadow in the corner of no one. In everyone's heart, there is a holy land. . So for me, the text world is my utopia, the city of freedom in dreams. Here are the indigo skies and white snow of Lake Baikal, the sands of the Maldives, the holy sounds and purity from the Himalayas, and the wildness of the Sahara.... In short, everything in reality can In my heart, in the world of words Carton Of Cigarettes, there are traces of text that can be found in my longest friend. Perhaps it is not appropriate to use the term friend to define it. I don't know how to describe it. Or maybe, in a special way, I can cry in her arms Marlboro Red, run barefoot in his galaxy, rest in her milk, wander in his sight, in her In the pity of the eyes, weeping.... She can be my mother, my lover, or my daughter. Among them, I have been involved for six years and traveled for five years. Now, I am going to go deep into her deepest search. The source of life about all mysterious beauty is limited. The words that are sent by the spirit can cross the history of the millennium and can span the scale of billions of light years. . What is the text, that is, the last thing I want, I want to say: How many ancient sages are there Marlboro Lights, and there is no distaste for the river. Therefore, thinking about all beings, billions of tracks, and the road to pass. What about Sri Lanka? How about me? Buddhism: No me, no him, no one. By taking him, this statement: love is love Newport 100S, hold it; Zhong Qizhong, the end.