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an old theater
that is what I am I have a curtain, a public, fake scenery, useless and improbable cardboard doors that won't open the walls are tumbling down on me I feel the cracks and the people laugh a grotesque laugh as if white elephants are playing with monkeys clowns are walking on the wire of justice animal trainers snap the whip for dead actors today it's playing inside of me Flight Over the Cuckoo's Nest tomorrow Suicide Sector they are acting on old wood pieces I have no scene one day it has become a dragonfly it couldn't walk but it flew magically like a drop of water on a sorrow eye white elephants are now playing with a singing bird chick they are throwing it towards my majestic ceiling the colors mixed on the hideous faces of great playwrights it's only you now with a smooth cheek, purple eyes the black paint covers your chest a mutilated dragonfly fights with its wings caught in the colors with which others painted your heart
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