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17 Nov 2009
close-up:http://drycha.blogspot.com/2009/11/bezsennosc.html
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it's hard to translate poem... my poem...
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I spoke yesterday at the sixth with the devil
told me about corpse in the bathtub and refrigerator
just came and woke me fever

monotone closed old gates in a dream
before the meeting with the devil
I knew that a cat also stared blankly

stood in the middle of the room and waited until'll go crazy
reminded me of the skins wounds
the dull eyes of the mutilated faces of

encounter with the devil reflected in the memory
I killed all the thoughts, I go [to sleep] away
walked away and left a beautiful light on the walls

(poem 12.11.2008r.)
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everything falls into brown, which is not black than green (except for lost crimson thread) - was set on fire.


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