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suicide poetry

quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
bonheur
ces coeurs ont été tissés des joies et des soins humains
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes

 



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