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It is recommended to climb less in love, it is recommended not to linger
To steal quickly what you need and go, the descent is much too difficult Some may never see the ground again, they remain slaves in a foreign skin They walk down the street and you can see their apprentices waking up And they start sweeping, making breakfast, half-asleep, unwashed Almost stooped they begin to clean in the name of love, they stay there in the nest Of the thorax until it lightens and they get a crust of bread from their master you have your own world inside of me here in the middle of my chest ravenous like a sheet of paper you pull out water Poetry comes out of the skin like a river comes out of its bed, suddenly Each time I am not ready,I don't have a pencil nearby I am running down the stairs, I don't know where the paper is, I sit down in the armchair Ouch, I forgot, God how it slips away,I will sleep with the paper under my pillow I will better sleep on the paper, in the morning my body will scratch, In the beginning something unreadable, I laugh, incredible, it was right Poetry does come out of the skin like sweat does, it cleans the body From the excess of imagination which naturally I can not control With no drug, With no kind of boyfriend or Burmese cat you have inside of me your own world some parts of the body are distorted I cut down everything so you can lie down I know nothing of love, I know nothing of sex I know nothing of poetry, I know nothing of him Some strange man found on the street comes along He comes closer and closer, he draws circles in my palm He sweats, smokes, I turn the page careless Then I stand up and I say get out, g-e-t-o-u-t He takes his clothes, asks nothing, he looks at the books Spits on them, what a crazy bitch, the door closes you have your own world inside of me I light a cigarette and I can see inside of me a filthy town
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