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gothic poetry

candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
quale desidero rilevare
per allora senza
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita
osservare di lŕ
sto morendo
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
li ha fatti mai vedono un coccodrillo
il cielo
siete chiari
nelle mattine nube-grige
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
scuro-eyed
sono fevered

 



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