am dreaming or Chicken? Here is the roast
is there in its place.
And if I was the chicken? No comments
hung by the neck.
I dress in spices
I turn to good,
seem trifles but the flavor it should.
Fire is impatient
rubs hands
fear of ash in my tomorrow, the end is near
destiny I do not think I wake up, it's morning,
a spit in the back.
( Simone Science )
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