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deepundergroundpoetry.com
The eve.
Long before
the Russell enters I lay awake at
The gate to pass the same time as
It was before bed and letters in ink
In machines of March March to tomorrow
Talk tomorrow and the hollow office
Haunts me.
the Russell enters I lay awake at
The gate to pass the same time as
It was before bed and letters in ink
In machines of March March to tomorrow
Talk tomorrow and the hollow office
Haunts me.
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