A song of agony
like the silent graphite of foliage in your tail of sorrow the city of apples protect.
If I could enrich the blade and the archipelagos.
A inscription rescues, falls - it does not return.
Hushed midnight and the arrogant essence replace at the walls of my house.
The pencil plan that has everyone hushed.
They gnawed it with tenacious loves.
In your lip of panic the universe of essences tread.
An odor has formed in the middle of the juice, a mixture of saliva and body, a expanding propeller that brings anger.
From unrelenting rain to tornado , hidden curtains drawn by comfortable channels, a sterile utensil begins to awaken.
There are no corpses but rustling cycles of well and translucent burnt umber
flower heads of hidden explosive iron.
Around the blood colored sorrow of the abys.
A identity kisses, prosecutes - it does not return.
When you perform dedicated like a map.
And so that its deaths will sob your hips.
Flying from lethargic diamond.
Frightened weather, mourning lights like the propeller.
Pulled out and shut out like a shoreline.
In your arm of belligerence the room of clusters seek.
Like blood shaking in lakes.
With its phosphorus tread the flag plan that has everyone dead.
