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erotic poem

uma tempestade está montando na maré
duas fileiras dos repolhos
eu encho este copo
cai aqui nenhuma luz
há uma hora do descanso calmo
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
paredes e enorme elevados
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
eu estou no amor com lugares far-seeing elevados
talvez
caras bonitas, tragical
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays

 



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