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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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I was playing with the feeling of springtime – when
too mellow of love I was falling beside you the only one that’s carefully writing his testimonial I’ll stick to your shadow changing nothing I love you – this is a feeling with I’ll flirt a little longer, dear tree I was playing with the feeling of spingtime and crying in right line my walking on cerebral spheres was waving together musical lights numbers, flavours of colours it raised my body skating between cold tranquil spangles lost in the nid of birds blowed at the stained glass on your ribs drowned by leaves I was secretly blinking my eye on you revealing for you, a feathery rounding of my breast a fine high-essed shoe, discreetly moment then I was starting again, naturaly, the whole part glued white with my chest on his shoulder to bear you luck I was playing with the feeling of spingtime – when my skin was spinning sizzle beyong the axes of the game with your pulse centering bored diamond and saphires - I was hanging them pandatives in my heart You – were crushing through your teeth the left kernel of my soul bending waves on my temple the beaten roads of the falling from cristina into submission everything was careless twisting in my mind – when a beak like a lighting blade stuck into my back I opened myself in a rounded scream up till my bones with my poems dancing among convulsions for the rain of your eyes I was pulling along my too short skirt I was triggering the decolletage of whispers they exploded inside the burgeons at the door of my soul drifted from the root your eye was spearing itself saving, closing to the light I was spinning at luck your feelings on the retina one evening –when I was playing with the thought of spingtime – invincible foreign alone
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