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Spaghetti knots

be longing be

electricity green

where the nature doesn’t grow

finds me holding onto my bag

fearing the rowing above

from buildings bending against

the dried stream that recounts

the now dead tree stumps

still reaching for the next leaf

and the original current of yellow

that may bask between my legs

in a smell of longing to be somewhere else

besides here and alone

among too many

*

i have been guillotined in public

and forced to walk still

with a hat on my head

and thoughts about hair

*

what belongs to me only

if not you

besides of course the

what left longing

if only not you

 

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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