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■ The oak
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At the liquid end of the primordial depth,
Stones dressed in chocolate Are chewed between the temporal teeth As clean explosion. She forgets that she floats beside self With dynamite in hand, Hugged by fairy, sirens and dolphins. On every dream will be written in the past tense A flight, a death, An implosion More lively than not even ever. “As I know to be between sad and ephemeral Sometimes; I want to fight every drop Not to believe as a desert, but to write you… On every letter eternity will live, Dreaming of you, I win too, only me, The hour of my implosions, More than thin struggles, Luliki!”
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