letra de untitled poem 2 - nolan kiser
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your heavy hanging neck needs a rest
devoid of dialog’s end
an acrid peak
i think planets live in your cheekbones
cutting empty sp-ce
and standing on the swivel chair of life
a winter is hurling them
along with pieces of your skull
devoid of dialog’s end
from an acrid peak
finally as i step out into the bitter cold of it
i am reminded of the first time
the last times
the end times
the lost time
the promise of all in good time
and the faults along the way
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