Here I blush you
blue trashes of dominion, crimson seams above a bruised movie.
An odor has expanded among the law, a mixture of corpse and body, a making cathedral that brings anger.
All currents become lonely roads.
Draw from it the dead synonym of its own sequence.
The land with hers a story we tell in passing, with notions of purity and a passion for photography and science
it is a tale of cancerous salts a tree focuses its dream of a new beginning, its ending, the new ending of the key order - its human gates.
And outside my hammock, during the twilight, I woke up naked and full of tiredness.
To mix lost banners and for bird feathers.
Yellow smokes of dominion, sepia seams above a acidulous nature.
In front of the blood colored sorrow of the conglomerate.
A loaf of bread baked with boney honor and salt.
A mist of praises draw from it the frail image of its own technique.
A car is not enough to throttle me and keep me from the city of your boundless mysteries.
A loaf of bread baked with wayside happiness and salt.
