He Didn'T Get Up With The Left Leg Today Poem by Andrej Grampovcan

words already were written down with the right hand,
will Muse maybe fall asleep of sweetness in a head?
But one crazy is from slaughterhouse returned,
all red on lips, blood drank there.
Curious eyes are terminating passion, still you are crazy,
a telephone is ringing among her legs and he is ringing.
Little girl my, you are being wrung as a lemon,
fitness became exercise of your instinct.

pittura Museo Ferrari Modena Andy Warhol