I hear the black smoke from which shines carat purple oxide, a cry between two rocks in the basement of the sky. Thus it may be and that I know. And also that it is rare to hear. Apparat tiny embedded in the noise. Seeming to shine, the surface is a beacon that lights up inside, hesitating between the fate of an insignificant grain of quartz Common caught in the mass of a pavement, and the elevation in the air to attract other eyes, other plays, others this same world, he paces in explorer undecided, won by the vain wear , lost the childlike faith. It measures the infinite past and those who come full of stammering lips, looks surprised to see it happen. See us. And me too, perhaps.
He goes, he comes, he goes. Transparency in the fair shy of confabulations. It came and went, went, unavoidable absence. He sweats the dead as objects evolved into uselessness by the hardness of the body unmoved. And the line he will advance his lean agile cursor among the sentences without knowing that humans are in the streets. Volte face of palpable clashes, hugs, and hermetic seals itself only obscene.
It is unrecognizable. Wall decal. Indigent. Unaddressed. He lives at the station buffet. Against the offense of funeral monuments no one used his journey, having disappeared without trace and persistent in training apprentices live when they will stow their skiff serious anxiety. So that is uncertain to the edge of losing everything. I am this coat that covers her hip and carried away like a locomotive mechanism. His taxi is waiting for a ride. Often tight fist on the reins of his breath.
I drink alcohol on days when there is nothing. Where its ultimate appearance is a disappearance. Where he smells the banality of someone who watches the time of his train. Time for a controlled departure from the curious quirks of necessity. It is long, long sublimely, tide, filling the glass hall where everything sounds like a thousand tangled disorders watchmakers vent. He drinks glasses of long strokes and he commands the waters drown the silence he invented the incessant clash of fossil tribulations.
At destination, he gets up, leaves his palace, and this becomes incapable of being that which seeks to tell not to cross the middle of the days and nights naked sun that toy-attired.
as I hear murmurs, eyes puffy sponge. With his clerk his titles of nobility and its insoluble calls without following the reign of pain are discharged.
Everything is still an animal, I think I knew, an animal that we wilt. An animal in the mirror degraded. We kill an animal. We open. That we cut. We devour. We grind. We attach. That we torture. We take a lead. That we cherish. We buy. We worship. We even made gods and masters. Human
cursed flesh air and prisoner of his heavy frame, he insists in a spiral around the rock to fluid environments and leads to the indifferent material in the center of the plant to return the vacuum. That no profession. Just to keep. If only a clarification. Sometimes. Because everything is black. To be determined, if not to see red. Heart. Or bleed.
He knows things that the worst murderers do not. He understands that love forget. At the windows, if any, supported or anywhere, watching the spectacle, he never mind anything. He listens. The eternal complaint of the walls. The Business Round. The museum of history while standing around, and still nothing. A spark in the cosmos. And tomorrow against another. And anyway vows unresolved championships rotten. Vices combatants. By the unique power of the jaws that are disgusting and stomach desire and know fun, and the complaint, and the round. He tells
. He even graze the complaint of his palm and guess the round when hungry. And if it is we want to recognize. Was invited. He speaks. We would like to explain. They are gathering. We press. At best we begin to hope without knowing, at worst, not knowing, we start to believe. If he stays it will be embalmed in which incense is bathed names one does twinkle. We dare
little for him. He knows. He fled. It follows the humble to the next level with the precipice. And love here and there that accompanies it. Boundary consolation. And some congeners that swarm over the fences jets sharp prickles angry and desperate. Electric buffet bites in the kidneys and straighten a laugh accomplice. We could then meet in the paddock for three or four words written on the back white pacts betrayed. Betrayed a thousand times. Written for be.
He speaks. I see his isolated murmur audible in the fog. I am, unknown brother. Brother ignored. There he was already considered the cradle. His gaze falling like to tell me who I was. No. That it could be that I am. No. That I might be. No. It said nothing. I think he had simply want to reassure me. That he too had seen the sea before.
He saw the sea was not yet born. Almost nothing was. As a spell of liquid jade. Magma memory behind folds multiplied, that an innocent trip was attached to his shoulders. It does nothing to become. It's like that's all. It had happened. And to survive everything should be an unbearable lightness. On the enigmatic detachment. Dream, but you're just a breath. Crown or rag. He was born
singing waves. But that does not mean much. Tomorrow it will be over soon. Where in a few hundred seasons. So what you have whispered other in whispers perhaps. In this same song they can already hear it.
I learned that sleep. Times we must let him sleep. Periods threats foreign skin. On its brightness returns indexed to fury. And be carried into the ocean storm. And duller than this echo that some believe hold a god.
I found him, curled in the corner of a room in an abandoned house. It emanated from him again, petrol-scented acids, evidence of a thoughtful insistence.
There is no choice: the animal is still, in some cases, as if it never existed. Yet
not get tired, I've managed to tell me, even if the filings of some never-ending glow during absurd sides of times in turmoil, falling cold powder in the back of our steps. Sowing and often a sterile ryegrass.
is a question mark. He does not say his name. Nor whence he is. Or where it went.
Recently I installed a cafe in a railway station. It was anywhere I think I remember. On the seat beside me there was a coat. Apparently abandoned. I asked the waiter when I gave him my order. He briefly describes a man who had one or two hours earlier and who had surely been forgotten. I asked him to tell me about the man. I told him that I knew and I recognized the cloak. I asked the boy if he saw no harm in what I relate myself to the owner. The boy had a wry expression and said no, it does not pose a problem.
Since I have this coat in my house.
He goes, he comes, he goes. Transparency in the fair shy of confabulations. It came and went, went, unavoidable absence. He sweats the dead as objects evolved into uselessness by the hardness of the body unmoved. And the line he will advance his lean agile cursor among the sentences without knowing that humans are in the streets. Volte face of palpable clashes, hugs, and hermetic seals itself only obscene.
It is unrecognizable. Wall decal. Indigent. Unaddressed. He lives at the station buffet. Against the offense of funeral monuments no one used his journey, having disappeared without trace and persistent in training apprentices live when they will stow their skiff serious anxiety. So that is uncertain to the edge of losing everything. I am this coat that covers her hip and carried away like a locomotive mechanism. His taxi is waiting for a ride. Often tight fist on the reins of his breath.
I drink alcohol on days when there is nothing. Where its ultimate appearance is a disappearance. Where he smells the banality of someone who watches the time of his train. Time for a controlled departure from the curious quirks of necessity. It is long, long sublimely, tide, filling the glass hall where everything sounds like a thousand tangled disorders watchmakers vent. He drinks glasses of long strokes and he commands the waters drown the silence he invented the incessant clash of fossil tribulations.
At destination, he gets up, leaves his palace, and this becomes incapable of being that which seeks to tell not to cross the middle of the days and nights naked sun that toy-attired.
as I hear murmurs, eyes puffy sponge. With his clerk his titles of nobility and its insoluble calls without following the reign of pain are discharged.
Everything is still an animal, I think I knew, an animal that we wilt. An animal in the mirror degraded. We kill an animal. We open. That we cut. We devour. We grind. We attach. That we torture. We take a lead. That we cherish. We buy. We worship. We even made gods and masters. Human
cursed flesh air and prisoner of his heavy frame, he insists in a spiral around the rock to fluid environments and leads to the indifferent material in the center of the plant to return the vacuum. That no profession. Just to keep. If only a clarification. Sometimes. Because everything is black. To be determined, if not to see red. Heart. Or bleed.
He knows things that the worst murderers do not. He understands that love forget. At the windows, if any, supported or anywhere, watching the spectacle, he never mind anything. He listens. The eternal complaint of the walls. The Business Round. The museum of history while standing around, and still nothing. A spark in the cosmos. And tomorrow against another. And anyway vows unresolved championships rotten. Vices combatants. By the unique power of the jaws that are disgusting and stomach desire and know fun, and the complaint, and the round. He tells
. He even graze the complaint of his palm and guess the round when hungry. And if it is we want to recognize. Was invited. He speaks. We would like to explain. They are gathering. We press. At best we begin to hope without knowing, at worst, not knowing, we start to believe. If he stays it will be embalmed in which incense is bathed names one does twinkle. We dare
little for him. He knows. He fled. It follows the humble to the next level with the precipice. And love here and there that accompanies it. Boundary consolation. And some congeners that swarm over the fences jets sharp prickles angry and desperate. Electric buffet bites in the kidneys and straighten a laugh accomplice. We could then meet in the paddock for three or four words written on the back white pacts betrayed. Betrayed a thousand times. Written for be.
He speaks. I see his isolated murmur audible in the fog. I am, unknown brother. Brother ignored. There he was already considered the cradle. His gaze falling like to tell me who I was. No. That it could be that I am. No. That I might be. No. It said nothing. I think he had simply want to reassure me. That he too had seen the sea before.
He saw the sea was not yet born. Almost nothing was. As a spell of liquid jade. Magma memory behind folds multiplied, that an innocent trip was attached to his shoulders. It does nothing to become. It's like that's all. It had happened. And to survive everything should be an unbearable lightness. On the enigmatic detachment. Dream, but you're just a breath. Crown or rag. He was born
singing waves. But that does not mean much. Tomorrow it will be over soon. Where in a few hundred seasons. So what you have whispered other in whispers perhaps. In this same song they can already hear it.
I learned that sleep. Times we must let him sleep. Periods threats foreign skin. On its brightness returns indexed to fury. And be carried into the ocean storm. And duller than this echo that some believe hold a god.
I found him, curled in the corner of a room in an abandoned house. It emanated from him again, petrol-scented acids, evidence of a thoughtful insistence.
There is no choice: the animal is still, in some cases, as if it never existed. Yet
not get tired, I've managed to tell me, even if the filings of some never-ending glow during absurd sides of times in turmoil, falling cold powder in the back of our steps. Sowing and often a sterile ryegrass.
is a question mark. He does not say his name. Nor whence he is. Or where it went.
Recently I installed a cafe in a railway station. It was anywhere I think I remember. On the seat beside me there was a coat. Apparently abandoned. I asked the waiter when I gave him my order. He briefly describes a man who had one or two hours earlier and who had surely been forgotten. I asked him to tell me about the man. I told him that I knew and I recognized the cloak. I asked the boy if he saw no harm in what I relate myself to the owner. The boy had a wry expression and said no, it does not pose a problem.
Since I have this coat in my house.
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