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gothic poetry

non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
sto morendo
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
se fossi molto sicuro
la luce ritirata
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
forse
sotto la luna della raccolta
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
ha incurvato l'inondazione
mescolisi
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays

 



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