-
finally fucked,
-
and the last fantastic book
-
flung out of the tenement window,
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and the last door closed at 4 am
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and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply
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and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece
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of mental furniture,
-
a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet,
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and even that imaginary,
-
nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination
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Ah, Carl,
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while you are not safe