Hung in the middle

Jaia Papitz's picture



Too late to go back

Unattainable forward


No quantic law broken

A swig, a wife, a mistress

The broken vowel

Amniotically drowned

Even you, orgasm? duplicitous seconds!

The hitchhiker smoked for a while one of his last cigarettes below, in the ditch, in the shade of the crossed son

In the middle

Bathed in celestial love,

As a sinner in the plaza

Boom, bang, missed

Meteorites from the fists to the thorough, in the teeth

Like a, a shooting star she lived

Lava from her brain

Drained along the soulless, cracked concrete



we the lived

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