It a fine powder. Smoke rose from a ground water blonde. A blast of heat that aggregates sand ash filtered mausoleums where dormant princes. It sleeps. And you look. In the shade of large trees caressed filled with winks shimmering. It is a meander of a course away from invisible furnace whose distant rumors he remained abroad.
No longer a table, or you or anything, nor of him that, a breath under the liner to breathe life as an insensitive dumb track infinitely, infinitely distant, and lost enduring, yet infinitely stretched, pseudopod febrile to large desolate valley, the trail of innocent inconsolable loneliness in reduced power.
Warrior bladeless and without tears. Seeking a rest he disguises the marble serenity wild ancestors impalpable. Hiding under his eyelids trembled just dreams stolen from jewelers authors. One arm folded wing naked prevented his head enclosed altar of silence.
voices beyond which waves thunder, shouting, laugh. Agreed. Those who have already devoured her become. Sated your desire to lead. Small songs stored stubborn growths from below happened in your invitations to give. Those who've bought the best clothes in the world where it moves in overcoats. The corruptions
responses precipitated. Naughty minds. Notarial wisdoms. Masters of banks in morgues across sovereign who committed the rape of the glories promised cons dirty. Desisters who pay into the eyes of the stars of soot. The priests who cook the hearts to submit to the laws of totem vampires.
You see. The island adrift. Torn in the fury of centuries fractions not found in heathland which is continuing tumult of empires. Focus and dissolve disasters greedy. Assemble and tired in search of nothing. Mingle and to assassinate devotions ice.
And yet you bow, dawn after dawn, prepared every night, every morning under your skin in scribble, in the belief that childhood indecent leave thee, whom you call sometimes with strangulation, remaining your time where everything took shape when everything was distorted. You
watchmen. Passages for rafts, mastabas codes eroded that curves the cosmos are published by seasons before you. Triturated your troubles with you sometimes, in some period of boredom more vacillating torpor than others, this maniacal care where you move, where Replaces you on an imaginary altar, a small nation of useless objects, origins frayed, you do not know how to keep, why throw.
was a perfume. And he laughs at you there, on set with a face frozen in a precious morning of January at the window against which the breath panics. It had all the appearances of things simple and ordinary. While only commanded to be there. The next time was in the mist as gateways to places all transferred their cocoons and nicely disguised as common accessible.
A dying fish, gutted in a cloud illegal, to hunt down the cold which all life is frightened. Or adapts. Or fled. Or issue. S'absout or using the rules of a game image Harlequin. You read until odor of putrefaction. Your sleep immersing recoiled in ocean trenches. Your fear strange shuddered with horror.
A season of crushed lava paths. You were going to go as the blind thoughts. Slender and bent so that one does not see them when he crossed here and there with gay prisoners outside smug. Whatever you existed so little. Why disturb any footprints on the steps without a regular slope.
The statues of figures tomorrow do anything. We tried to see and it was not more than a fashion spread conjuring to mimic the unfathomable and collectibles.
At this alone survives the invocation works fluids and even unspeakable. All of which is expected in the cove without matter who stands at rest in a gallop before hanging over an abyss teeming.
Dust china. Moors steam fruitful. Send stretched along the legendary times.
There the receptacle. A palm bag filled with a grain of amber in the resin particles which filaments are frozen since the beginning of time.
In one day you will read the number in your mouth singing blossomed. You feel their intertwining and dancing take place in your flesh.
Feel this state is said to be folly, where you press a fountain to be poor, a pasture of marl, a meal of dead wood, a bed of dried blood, disguised under the age arid a delusional molten liquid will return to the ether or fossil provided that the sky did not look shores, a few steps further speculated that the banks are fascinating toys that never enough.
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