I come from the country who stole itself
plans autumn in my memory as a poacher who was lost and forgot what
fled the calendar is a plant with cigarettes, a lot of land that
fit any hole the leftovers of yesterday resting in a pharmacy as this spring
stops you and me part, god gather to salute in the sewers intimate
by tachycardia, which together paid in the heart of the old
which subtracted too early to discuss our good pm
and dangerous tombs both expected.
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