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Gliding on the continuous passing of sound,
i too meanders by parts in breathing these words
I also walk in the light of twisted tentacles where the poles furrows my clouds on scenes i harvest with eager silk, and i write new skies talking on black colors dressed by the shade, playing on a soft breeze of life
The sunlight of lifetimes alone populate a universe of sudden hours in whirling rhythms crying while brightness plunder the primal ghosts and riding it as fading prey
My red horse dreaming bears the stray white suffering of judgement to gaze the tongue of my imperceptible vertical senses

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