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Oh come over here
and clamp this shelf, Spike
Forget maroon ghosts
that wished you good night.
Forget all the pain,
the jazz and the sorrow
let’s make a cliche
of our tomorrow-
with sun and the birds
that crawl bloody high
step there, step there-
just to dive near Our sky!
Forget that you’re real
and that I am assumed
not really my fault
that I was so doomed
with wishes of splendour;
pictures of stone,
façade of narcissus
and vagabond’s soul.
…With canvas and paintbrush
in wrinkle-touched heart
and no aquarelle
to begin from the start.
Concern is my pal
and your friend is glory,
you don’t need to stay
to view all my story.
So tuck up your sleeves
and move from my shef-
a million more souls
have their stories to tell.
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