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I told you, clenching fists

”it’s not about us, you fool

it’s about this world

’cause where went so much candour

will go more and more

until the hot core of love

shall slowly sublime

in tepid cinders

of impotent lust.”

Without turning around

you shrugged.


Pass the wine,

— outside this wall

under a full moon

mankind is moving like the tide

Pass the wine

and play some music

— they dance and laugh, they cry and fight

Pass the wine

oh, this Mahler!

— there will be no virgin left, no corner unspoiled, no body unmarked

Pass the wine

and light up some candles

— the werewolf hour is near, brace yourself

Pass the wine

my lousy shadow.


I starring at my left hand

watching the tendons dance

when fingers flexes,

The texture of the skin

thin and stretchy,

Knuckles and old scars,

Fingernail in need to be re-lacquered.

This hand, my hand

Grasping things,




This hand not touching you again.



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