Christ if we were beautiful. on those trains stopped to take breath when they leave us always seemed to go back and then derailed from laughing. with you that you were telling me that the applause was like a slap, slap kind of borderline, and that it looked like a little applause. that our minds even temporarily inaccessible dream of happiness of a hug or an orgasm or a job or freedom to depend on anyone and anything. then life was like a kind of roundabout and there was always someone to take precedence. civil wars in our hearts. media public break up with kisses. to scratch with the piercing. a twist to jammed to bother. we were just beautiful. as saints stray and alcoholics. beautiful. Christ if we were beautiful.
(thanks to Susanna Ronconi for her "beautiful were the same )
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