My Heart Blown Hot and Cold
Luo Jing Mei
My heart,
blown hot and cold,
bleeds into the ground.
The coolness of depression
stimulated by
humanity's darkness
dissolves
in the heat of my burning,
flaming passion for life.
this sheen dies
the day I stop dreaming,
the day I stop reading,
the day I stop writing.
Passion feeds itself
like a fountain
but dries up in this tiresome
world like strains
on a coffee cup.
I faint again and again,
the dizziness swirling
in my faculties.
My nerves are plucked
like weathered harp strings and
I lie on my bed dreaming,
I lie on my bed reading,
I lie on my bed writing.
Anyway, no, I'm not putting this poem here for any reason. But anyway, I like dreaming, and reading, and writing.
Hello everybody, good day to you all.
Luo Jing Mei
My heart,
blown hot and cold,
bleeds into the ground.
The coolness of depression
stimulated by
humanity's darkness
dissolves
in the heat of my burning,
flaming passion for life.
this sheen dies
the day I stop dreaming,
the day I stop reading,
the day I stop writing.
Passion feeds itself
like a fountain
but dries up in this tiresome
world like strains
on a coffee cup.
I faint again and again,
the dizziness swirling
in my faculties.
My nerves are plucked
like weathered harp strings and
I lie on my bed dreaming,
I lie on my bed reading,
I lie on my bed writing.
Anyway, no, I'm not putting this poem here for any reason. But anyway, I like dreaming, and reading, and writing.
Hello everybody, good day to you all.
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