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suicide poetry

la gradisco
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
come le aquile sul high alto
vecchio vino da bere
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
con gli occhi meek e marroni
fra le montagne ho vagato
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
sopra loro tutte, osservando giů

 



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