Arabesque robotique

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Nos corps éclairés
Dansent
Au creux des ombres
– vides

Bulles décapsulées
Coulent, froides et collantes
Le long de mes
doigts

Un goût de tabac flotte
Au-dessus de l’enfant
Et ses rêves s’envolent
En fumées
oniriques

Une oasis toxique

Arabesque robotique

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White Hills, Cold Nights

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White hills
Cold nights
My father always drives
Too fast
But is always
On.
Time.
Longer nights
Red wine
My room is quiet
Whilst she screams outside
Red breath
Green trees
My mother slipped on the ice once
And I laughed
Cold windows
Broken hearts
She threw the glass
On the kitchen floor
My fists clenched
White hills
Cold days
We were younger once
I didn’t need to speak as much
And you didn’t need to fake a smile
Warm pillows
Wet hair
I don’t have words
To catch
You