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suicide poetry

nuestros momentos agradables vuelan
una pluma del acero
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
cuando usted viene esta noche
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
del sol ni de estrellas
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
ponemos
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
no dé vuelta a su cabeza
podríamos sino saber
suavemente ahora la luz del día
tan perdido

 



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