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I remember the fresh days when I was sunnier

And used to parallel bitches to winter red roses

Back in the time I was not even a rhymes maker

Since and ever since I endured many a life low blows

Low cost…


I had a few poems dedicated to Mariam

Had not bought a gun to keep her close, tho’

Without will, war, anger, love or even a damn

I could smile at all her sweetly-pretty-tidal flaws…


What happened of me, heavens Why did I flex

Into nightmare business, into rest-in-peace business

Always thinking: “Where my poetry at”

Tho’ her name I ignore…


What happened of me? « Sex, sex, sex fuels money »

Has become a rationale of hers for licking hard candies…

May I think: “…” and let a dead love lay buried asunder under…


— Gilles D. Fabien