

Untitled.A nightmare bound me on a table. All my skin has gone and I can see it falling from the sky as drunken butterflies. My brain is knitting a thought with my fast breathing, but it just got a dusty sweater. The wind is walking on me as wild tarantulas, kissing my nude body with sweet and poisonous lips. And since a frozen sun is not a sun anymore, I wouldnt meet me myself if there were a mirror trying to steal my smile. There were some windows around me, taking tea in a bad mood, peeking at me as if, just for once, they could see through me, looking for their missing pUntitled.


The grave.I can see fingers around the sun, like dice hurled on an empty table, where the wood is always old, and words are dirty ink sliding from tiny bones.The grave.
With marble kissing my spine, the high and mild clouds have the appearance of inert rain, they could have been kaleidoscopic fire, and I could have been a passage between sky and mud.
Worms are flowers sweeping Bodies, tales of skin without shadows under letters, whichever pen you chose, tongues are dumb, eyes are blind, and life is a strange secret.
The wind whispers my name after caress gree
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"Don't make me break out my sentries." - Me, on Team Fortress 2
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~Ex meis cineribus surgar
"Wise men talk because they have something to say. Fools talk because they have to say something" ~Plato
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~Ex meis cineribus surgar
"Wise men talk because they have something to say. Fools talk because they have to say something" ~Plato
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