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The Trade Name
The Trade Name.
When the green fairy
kisses my lips
with sweet anise,
I take the grand wormwood path
just for jolly, wouldn’t you?
Cachous,
to mask her breath
of juniper.
A road
to mothers ruin.
The gas-lit fog
cloaks the backstreet
opiate dens,
where wretched
addicts lie.
Pastry faced women,
lifting ski...
Monday 11th March 2013 2:37 pm
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