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Berlin/Paris

First, your face decked by jewels and half lifetimes Broken vessels fill your dazed neck Your eye and lash come from this mountain of granite, smoke and cancer from the soil, you cut them as a fragrant lemon You let yourself fall the dust of your feet empties you, measures you, overcomes you dust by dust blow by blow finely on the snow of Berlin. Then, a nest, of fork and knife gives birth to snakes and stairs turquoise step on which you sing and pray. Finally, abysses, acids, earthquakes, only existent in indian dreams cloak of thirsty and yellow threads You let it fall You go away to let yourself know you are exiled from every country, from your sands, from your nation, from your glass from your ashes of Paris.
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Written by
marco-avre
Mexican
Published
May 15, 2014
Lines·Words
56·132
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