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gothic poetry

disprezzo i miei amici più di voi
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
ci è un paese in pieno di vino
la nerezza
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
morbidamente piangendo

 



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