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erotic poem

ein Leben auf der Ozeanwelle
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
wenn Sie heute abend kommen
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
er spricht nicht gut
so verloren
folglich kann ich nicht
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese

 



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