lunes, junio 6
Corpse Bride
Ash, ash--You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--
A cake of soap, A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air. (fragmento de Lady Lazarus, de Sylvia Plath)
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