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halloween poetry

o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
não esteja irritado com mim
no porto de york novo
este é o arsenal
levantado dos mortos
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
mulher boa
os dias hypocritic
algum queixou-se ao mestre
caras bonitas, tragical

 



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