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in this dream
love was a city named death
on the streetcar named desire
it's a forked tongue synthetic feeling
of straight teeth and kissing (your own) elbows
split in half and shelled down the very core
hungry throat wrenched blue with poison
i'm still dissolving but here's my advice
swallow the cherry but not the pit
take it by the stem
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vous ne comprenez pas
YOU ARE READING
HUMAN PSYCHE
Poetrybecause that which makes us human is that which we think makes us less human
