doomdominus Posted February 27, 2011 Report Share Posted February 27, 2011 a film made of pure light while lifes marry eternal boredom a strange form of life where everything is too quick and fast the subway is coming pulpits of lost stones I say I won't jump I cannot stop the sons of the eye the slow kill behind the papering the solemn lights are oaks on my way I'll leave all this on my back plastic self shows on me in extasis the childs of dawn haunting every sound they spot like the sparks inside a poem about truth in consort to the sleepless visitors which will take me inside the sharpener flux the fucking clerk being no one as he bangs his head for mine and the secretary of good curves on the hula-hoop for a personal hook spinned for too much on this chair and still the night passes over me hoping this deposition to renew the grass I request your difference to bless me (mi influencia pa esto es como siempre la puta sociedad y bauhaus) :) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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