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Poetry etiketine sahip yayınlar gösteriliyor

the idea of being a phantom in Istanbul

-->I
a crackpot among old phantoms your hair is dry and teeth are wet a weirdo symphony orchestra sliding the time from its fingernails you've lived in ages before christ-
and if time is a rattlesnake being a ghost isn't virtuous anymore- and blood doesn't' stop on your gashed head this is a curse / however you bend you're a spitted out dead to the aborted womb of the city
now with incoherent matters gypsies go crazy in the moonlight irons rust in the dirt of drains houses tipped out from belongings where their soul stinks intriguer genies settle inside them yearning for smoke and sour wine demons, addicts and cancerous cheap sluts brothels planted all over the face of rotten cities how their asses on fire such the dead are scared of.
II
murder is freedom, in the back street for instance a junkie would be killed by a syringe. this could be a banker instead of a prostitute pickpockets, godfathers, traitors, and bribe taker cops should be added to calculat…