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Half Moon

You could keep me from paper, but not from these thoughts, in the end I'd have skin hunger to nail the hammers in my neurons If half of my culture is here then the other is in Sweden I n the countryside toward the boars heart And every morning, doctor, Every afternoon, I douse in… Continue reading Half Moon

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Nobody’s Daughter Part 2: The Wilted

I wrote many poems today, They remain as a strip of nirvana The phone rings violently The persona is a nauseous vermin I wrote many pains for tomorrow They weigh a ton, And they break the third dimension This world is very small and people only think with picth black baskets with bloody skies You… Continue reading Nobody’s Daughter Part 2: The Wilted