First Day
In this moment I’ve woken up
Under a grey bridge in a white city
That I know is unknown to me.
The street littered with black cats
Because the storm is coming.
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Kudos
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Kudos
In this moment I’ve woken up
Under a grey bridge in a white city
That I know is unknown to me.
The street littered with black cats
Because the storm is coming.
A folk tale of rook-pecked corpses and rusty bicycles For which the pink elastic strings of the fable’s bikini Has been washed too many times Like laying A flaming palm branch of donkey shit at your door After S– stood you up twice for... Continue →