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Never have I seen the moon turn off its light at night,
Never has it leaped into my room to chat with me or for a moment of unserious trite.
Always faithful to shine,
As similar to that of a slick wine.
Running down a stranger's throat,
Swilling as he sips and slurps - those eyes of his like that of a sneaky goat.
Never have I seen the moon turn off its light at night.

                                                Jahmenmuze..
As simple as thought but symbolical in every sense of night.
1090

I am afraid to own a Body—
I am afraid to own a Soul—
Profound—precarious Property—
Possession, not optional—

Double Estate—entailed at pleasure
Upon an unsuspecting Heir—
Duke in a moment of Deathlessness
And God, for a Frontier.
Hopelessness died with death itself
and as long as you live, hope remains.
Yes, she collected bags
to be precise, souvenir bags and packets.
Two whole shelves in her cabinet were filled with them,
and let’s not forget
she knew the story behind each one.
The children who went to pick mushrooms
passed by graves and abandoned factories along the way.
Perhaps ghosts lived there too.
They examined the photographs
engraved on the tombstones with curiosity,
while their grandmother dragged dry branches
to start a fire
and cook the mushrooms.
I feel light,
as if right before death
or maybe I’m already dead and writing.
Who can make sense of life?
I’ll just go out onto the balcony,
smoke a cigarette,
keep up the routine,
and act as if I’m alive.
And where is the quail,
in which grass is it hiding?
I have seen it flutter
on dry grass, then disappear somewhere,
with its wheat-colored  feathers
it hides in the fields,
so it won't end up
on the hunter's pan,
a target of his hunger.
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