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You bark as if a knock means everything --you will die answering this door, trusting its sound its worn out, not used anymore --your jaws already far off, so sure the sun just by licking this paint would be restored, every board a tree full bloom, at once half leaves, half fur half how could a door uncover such a sky, a light weathered by the long winters the waiting, so sure I'll let in your neck swept back by an ancient hill making the rounds, filling your bark with not enough time and holes are everywhere the same. You bark all you want. Dig into the air --this door stays closed, behind it such a steepness asking for papers.
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