Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Genital Pimples Men Images

Died

You're never descended to the bottom of large tanks to gleaming cylinders. If that dazzles all sparkling lights.
You never sounded quite relieved from a dream, a thought sufficiently delivered, this abyss where the fall never bump into anything. Where you lie half unconscious on the back of a hand that sucks you in its tracks, the wing crazed, driven, successful, above the tomb peats.
You are here: the two feet, screwed, unscrewed, on asphalt, the pavement terraces, marble vulgar. And storms ancient fury of graceful charms of glazes, blades of elegance, are all your seasons. Shards of punching innovated nature, by itself or elsewhere, surround you with no pride in their sheets with sharp leaves. A slow
their parades, crossing their sharp vivid splendor, swells in you a hunger to live and much worse.
is stretched over the dermis of breath too pure. Of the star radiating from a continuous miracle. The waltz
without lock ellipses crowned. It is a more flesh submitted that any work to spread the grain infinitely bewitching a greeting against time. One wishes only currency of a cruel memory, or cursed portrait of absolute blackness anyway and pardoned. Loosely forgivable. You tear your
tested, sulfide bowel pale on the stay of those dreams. As the hooves of apocalypse as a country covered fairnesses serene. Because everything is
war to drink in your stench poor who can so often feast that knowledge of the dead desert.
You feel suffocated and coma stone reappears again flayed your breath. You know the canvas painted opera celestial dance in Gimquat poem in blood film revealing book in altitude.
And then the living being almost unbearable. And
venom secreted as an antidote.
one mouth saurian who confuses his mud empty your mouth calls to the top pinned, enclosed like a sieve severe, avaricious. On a scale
the sticky yellowish horn on your spine with short bursts of gilding to Grim reptile.
until a conniving behind a screen to glean the usurped claim of a penny a throat brilliant stones can be polished.
You can wait, fisherman hanged, other-oriented shore along which incessantly rise mausoleums impenetrable. Your carne aging as a journey which decomposed thee never worn caress you.
If you can, if you want to know how to do it, you will do yourself the waters of that river.
You'll open the territories of the horizon where all sections of the book is already written in reverse pages and other on the question you will leave your whiteness melt finally silent.
worry, think again, everything is already said. Except maybe something we do not know yet. Everything has been delivered. There is only one angle ritual circumference of a wheel that can save you from the Psalms. Or a murder that no one would ever committed. Some love, though, that no one would have dared. No offense to the divine offspring.
So the depth where the eye loses you and which established the tone square of dry seeds.
The bed of roots and brooding where you begin to understand the mechanical process of this beautiful temple that crowd as carpets of roses. The burial of where your desire rid of reverence and devastation may hit its peak vivid, his acute pain, the sense of this tragedy without knowing it.
Killer, whatever, ultimately, the chosen weapon. A cyclonic
grip grabbing armfuls of flowers furious evil. A dagger of Alexandria gently piercing the cage of a heinous tyrant. Ocher clay hands palms of their impressive features of perfections insoluble free.
You must feel, you know, the weightlessness that results from being neither dead nor alive. Neither here nor anywhere. Neither flesh nor anything. Neither silence nor anything either. Neither hope nor memory or anything else. If you want a day to see what you see. Especially if it must be beautiful. Beauty. Beauty. What he is always miserable to say. Unwise to assume if it does is not. See a view
feasible.
Well, you get to the edge. With your courage required of those who know they will shoot them.
You have only to let it go. Te
drop off the bottom of large tanks to gleaming cylinders. If that dazzles all sparkling lights.
Start your wire from a dream, a thought, through this abyss where the fall never bump into anything.
Stop being the spectator contingent objects dormant in closed rooms with full transparency. Do not be satisfied with itself, a court superstitious fronts and dust.
It is a time to review still pass the dazzling hero as the current carries the memory of which to torture of starving. And there is another who loses weight in front of us while being indifferent in visions pusillanimous.
It is a time to lean the feet of the maidens in begging the crumbs of mythical feast. And there is another, genuine eternal, falling from a slope on the run in his bent over us every night floating in the same light as a bit unwell. Spy
convolutions where stray so much speculation about awards comfortable on fears appropriate, on the remains reincarnated on prayers bloodless, that fear to lie, ocean roped to its rudder on the back of the hand that dips its wings to slow and mad worlds where there is perhaps nothing more.
If there is nothing wrong, and we must to try, though.
And finally, if you hear that beauty has no body.

0 comments:

Post a Comment