it was on a cold August morning When I was returning from Bucharest to my hometown and after arrival at 7 AM I spent a little time in the train station I smoked a cigar and drank a cup of coffee walking around and puffing through misgrown flesh-like advents destiny stalkers hearses having pale on pale disscusions fingers hollowing a beautiful child stifled, chewed into oblivion one of them smiled and said give me so I can be I was puffing and mumbling and watching then it was certain that we were all in a cell where others devoured a heaven sent protein amongst mills where the brightest ones were grinding up their ardors for the good of filth I heard nothing but silence like drops of rain on the roofs of their inner wars and the need of liberation
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