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Masats & the art of,





Slow, dark, oblivion.

Images of a woman

hurt me.



I must paint

all of Eden,

with only an apple.



Cold opaque mist,

bitter sun. Some childrem

ride bicycles.



Woman at nignt,

our atoms burn.

Life a chaos.



Provided a cricked sings

you won't feel so lonely

in the infinite.

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