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Three men that walk back.
Bleackment, a men that
falls into abyss, and later other, and other,
looks like they agreed
fleeing of city,
of petrichor, of rain,
of streets odor.
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Three men that walk back,
Three men that walk back,
Three men that walk back,
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Meanwhile the man falls;
he calls the death,
-one by one-
breaking with the floor,
against stones,
and never remains,
never remains, absolutely,
only blood, petrichor, and viscera.
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The dead escalated her fingers,
the fingers of the three men that walk back.
Deads, deads, deads!
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Satan and the dead black dog.
Tremulous, those who pray
dead canticles
who call the silence;
the night on the body
that lies between the gardens.
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to rain and sun
he reached a translucent color;
fly in the unclean airs
a smell of burned herbs.
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Satan guides the road,
but not is the hell your goal.
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Announce the dead,
between the rain, touch the door,
and its part of the rite,
the invocation.
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Satan guides the road,
but not is the hell your goal,
is, the damned acre
to which we are call
the esthetes.
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