Gently tear open the morning of the fifteenth day of the first month.
Slowly emerge from the water, trees and breathing.
In the breath, people are flowing; Trees, dragging branches to fly to sparrows.
The dry land can only be in a helpless urgency.
Loosen the seeds that have only been held for two months.
Dry taste. People who have started their journey
I don't have time to manage this day, so it's still a holiday.
With travel expenses, medicine, clothes and a heart that must leave.
Go to the long road that you have measured yourself.
Breathe, but wet ...
Children are still happy.
When called children, this kind of happiness belongs to them.
Lantern Festival, Lantern Festival, Sugar Dun Festival, bumper cars, gun battles. ...
With all the excitement of the 15th.
All belong to them.
◎ Continue to quench thirst
The closer the sky is outside the sky. Like a piece
The black grass has wings and flies towards me.
I am still quenching my thirst. -fearless blood, go on
It fell into the charcoal brazier and tinkled. I'm thirsty. I will continue.
Open a webpage with poems.
Within thousands of feet, there seems to be rain, waterfalls and three wet curtains.
The crow spat out a thunder, and the vibration page showed: This page cannot be opened.
The crow's mouth is big enough to swing around with black grass in its mouth.
The light that guards me, swaying. The sky beyond the sky is coming.
Big wings flapped and cried, and I couldn't hear clearly what I was calling for help.
What about the moral symbols I follow? It came in.
Outside my window, my disobedient eardrum is broken.
Thirst! I still need to continue to quench my thirst
◎ Incomplete Poetry: Yourself
Walking into the twilight alone.
The other walks into himself.
There are decent hoodies, calcified bones, and
Blood that can't walk freely
Dirty red, pasted together, glowing in the twilight.
Keep copying. More than one self
More than one group of people are going to their own donation sites.
Where the childhood road collapsed.
It became his first cemetery.
Trap a lot of information about tomorrow in the pit.
I am my own teacher.
And friends.
And an enemy.
Fight against yourself
Continue anatomy
Constantly fix vulnerabilities.
Continue to restart
In order to communicate one heart with another.
None of them dried up.
Not bloated.
Twilight is gathering.
Take Tomb-Sweeping Day as an example.
Wake up the old lock once a year.
Call for the coming self.
In March, my heart is the sea?
In March, I swam out of my heart.
The red sun is on the ground, rolling a little.
I had just crossed several rapids at that time.
Several layers of old scales have also peeled off.
March is brand new.
The sun is brand new.
In the rising sun, I am brand new, too.
Blue you, from the peach blossom branch.
Take out a new idea and throw it into my arms.
You say: In March, your heart is a warm sea.
My tail fin swung and rang all March.
Symbol of waves ...
they ...
Poets are not tired after all, are they?
People who sweat all day or at night can't write poetry.
When I saw that I didn't even eat or wash my face in bed, I wanted to fall asleep at once.
They want to live. They want to live for the lives of their wives and children.
They don't know what white-collar workers with gold and silver collars do.
They only know that they have to sweat a lot to get enough living expenses.
Writing poetry is a very talented thing for them, because they don't have to do anything but eat.
March is beautiful.
The poet's pen will paint peach blossoms and apricot flowers better than anything else.
They didn't look at them.
An occasional glance is also a time to wipe your sweat.
The vitality of March is infinite.
The instinct of marching is only the mobilization of all parts of the body.
People who write poems can divide March to the fullest.
They can only think of March as two months.
I hope that the time to find a job will not delay the time to go to work.
How many are there in the world? !
Still dreaming: one of my children has food and clothes to wear.
At least I have a better future than myself in this life.
I am a coward.
I am a coward. I can see it clearly.
Cover black with black.
Cover with corrosion.
Something darker and smelly, I can see clearly.
I don't say, and I can't say.
I am a coward. I dare not say it.
Deep sea, there will be waves. ...
One year
Say in my heart, ask
One spring, I was so defeated?
This year, I got sick.
It makes me sick to think about it, that spring.
Three menses
March is made of spring breeze.
I rolled on the floating soil, waiting for the opportunity to fly.
When I was a peach blossom, I drank all the rose wine I had stored for three months.
I followed her.
On an inexplicable morning
Sing softly
March, yesterday is still in my palm.
Just because I dreamed of a apricot forest.
From the finger
Fly to the branches of apricot trees
Divide yourself into eight directions.
optometry