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haiku poetry

a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
do assoalho ao teto
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
o corpo pode confinar
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
três anos há hoje
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
no porto de york novo
eu estou morrendo

 



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