finally the empty road
the endless empty road
the empty stones the
thousand and one
white steps the split
stones
the very long white
road
the extremely stony
road the extremely
split stones the
endless
jog the glass the
stones the white
recently dug legs of
passers-by
right behind the
brushwood
nothing conspicuous
behind the hills
deserters are plugged
a general breaks wind
over the road moves a
stinking cloud
the corpses find
themselves between the white stones
remarkably well hidden
artistically inlayed
between the split stones
every split is a
surprised eye
and the hundreds the
endless empty eyes
are from nobody from
nobody are
also the storms of
violence
at times they are
disguised as closed cars
slowly over the empty
white road
but then it is also
certain that they will vanish
suddenly in the clear bloodstain right on the horizon
suddenly in the clear bloodstain right on the horizon
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