Poezie
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1 min lectură·
Mediu
I’m running
behind me only the dust remains
and the pathways wherethrough the spiders wandered their prey
since I was born
I’m looking only forward
never backwards
I sweep away with a spittle
in shadow
a gene mutation
until you manage to write about me
solely one word
you’ll have already been dead
sometimes I have a déjà-vu
but I keep on going
I’m a stray cur
on a mountain of bones
you are I
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