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You're standing in a glass in front of me, water bewitched,
and looking at me to escape from the tap
eyes, in which, gleam, doubles
you become transparent under protection.

You know, I - your future: funnel,
and animate the riser is associated with loss
prospects; ahead - Fiber,
dusk viscera, not to mention - the arteries.

But it does not bother you. At all, in prison
more options for the homeless
substance, than that barred tulle
of freedom, even more so - in the absolute.

And you're absolutely right, counting, that oboydeshsya
without me. But the longer I exist,
the later you will become in the rain
window, polishing the pavement.


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