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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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A night bird
I was walking around pianos and jazz around wrinkles and eyes around whispers and grimms around headlights and taxies but now I'm tired of so much blue light projected in the coffee lees filtered through the cigarette smoke hidden under the lip that wants to kiss with lipstick-dirty teeth my eyes hurt of so much solitude amongst you I have passed searching for me don't give me the thermometer it is the hour at which I rise my supraego it is the hour at which I mesure my blood pressure with the pen it is the hour at which I take my pulse with the razor run while you still have time to save the rainbow in your tie the red in your temple your white skin upon which stretches the violet dark ring the blue eye shuts black coffee lees my eye opens with time and I see you dancing between the tables with unloaded baterries and damaged lighting and the shell of all questions not answered the shell opens condemning to black the night bird
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