Voice automatically recites at the loading of this page.
The view is a tunnel.
An event trigger
of this certain bout
encodes my heart.
I spit on mediocrity systematically on a vision.
Logic mars
its shadow;
my conduct.
o, obscure and instantaneous laughter inside the mind
you touch everything.
.
.
9
Voice automatically recites at the loading of this page.
Places to go.
Reluctant with a pretty face
daily amorphous delicacy
in a grasshopper’s leap from my skin
I am roaming
beating the books
as the rare searches its muse.
Eum.
The best unfound way out
is the pact of life with scissors,
the union of my both sides:
amphibian and nocturnal.