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halloween poetry

agora quando meus bordos viverem
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
ainda treze anos
estourou o vinho feroz
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
eu detestei-o
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
era não para esse cheiro singular
como ela
nossos momentos agradáveis voam

 



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