These days are numbered

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April come back,

Dont let March get up after eating,

Coz February gave January the bill At Valhalla’s Kitchen.

I will wait for April to come back with May.

Today i can wait another day for May.

Es and s.

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Come ye faithful of shapes and sizes.

Come round to me, circle.

Square rooted to me, cube.

Don’t you spew your angle, Cone.

—>>》》De Dias

–>》 Veeda de Libris p3

Oh July,

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why,

why,

why,

you kept lying to me,

you still do,

why oh why,

you keep it non stop.

As no sense in the restlessness of your incessant lying,

oh you, July.

Qui- phu- lou- ge3.

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Think not of the last,

when was the last,

did it last?

But when to and not how to think,

Where were your beating heart,

alas mine went out from my longest and lovely farts.

The betrayal of the note.

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In my adagio, i became a turtle.

In the diminuedo of things to be, i flew as a butterfly.

At the height of my staccato, as erratic as ever.

Then i crashed upon that crescendo, I bellowed as i screamed to the stars asking,

“why do I. . . . . “