The blades make me shit. I love twilight and sunset promises that leave me bent over the book of my hours. I spend my nights painting the miniatures of my insomnia under the sheets ... it's my removing the green flames in my melancholy. And when dawn comes, I become tense miniature background under the eyelids of my sleep fat, and my mornings are dying.
Vencredi But this morning is different ... It's a Vencredi just unite the sky with the first day of October!
October
My sweet to me that two o coupler on an eight older, were dragged out of ten.
October
my maple, my land, my air, my dog, my dawn blue ultramarine blue to peel, my body phoenix fire in my blood street beast.
October
my harvest and my Holy Tara inflames me where your land in the other tomorrow.
October
my autumn growling like rabies that revives my sap a spring sun dried under the awning.
October
my sleeping smoldering in her curves snow of my childhood ever again.
October
my beech, my charm ever under the leaf forever defaced.
October
which weaves in the humus chapka dreams of humanity.
October
m'ensemençant as a lover of fire until eternity.
October
your first morning, I could not deny it.
I'm awake and I singed the paper that offered me your land.
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