I STILL DIG MY BRAIN

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Deep poetic thoughts.

 


How seductive the perfume of flowers is!

The smell of my tobacco never chases it.

The beauty of flowers intoxicates me.

The smoke of my tobacco is a grey wisp.


Where does it go leaving my lips?


It hears my stories when I don't speak.


Does it take my words to lose them in mist?


Hello flowers! You pat my spring dreams.


Tobacco! You burn both yourself and me.


What can I discover, the world's philosophy?


Many brains can be driven mad by it.


I still dig my brain with a phantom stick.

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