.
Jours couleur merde, saveur crépuscule
Vie crade... Tout autour ces crapules
D'hommes-chiens me suffoquent.
De mon crâne
Ils ont fait une cellule, une grotte
Où crimes, névroses, idées noires
Comme des crapauds sautent
Pullulent !
De coups et de crottes
E.
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