03.08.10//6:26

The pages of a book set open on the table will shuffle themselves until the page you see is the page attached to the place in the spine that is most broken.

And the man with a stutter will become suddenly clear in a fit of anger because there is nothing he wants to say worse.

The first breath of Spring will inevitably be squashed out by the hot breath of machinery in walls that are too concrete.

And when I am damp with sweat and I haven't slept, you can count each hour of rest (like candies from a sweet shop) on my eyelids.

I can't dress it in a thicker veil. All of these things are you.

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The Dreams/ The Unconscious
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