Guest guest Posted March 6, 2004 Report Share Posted March 6, 2004 Weeping willows formed by misanthropy, and projected upon a grey screen. Boulevards of correspondent solitude, ejaculating gyro compasses against, dead traffic lamps and dusty streets. A deathless body called scrap metal, remains static, in a room stoned by time. Reverberating some antecedent dream, undesigned manifestation of spontaneity, proliferating lasciviously and, proportionally to the gravitation of perceptions. This dream has no end without you and no beginning with you. I saw the same face years a ago, nothing but repetitions here and there, nothing to be taken seriously tragic, not even the collective policy of involuntarity. She laughs; She knows how to sit in perfect stillness, in imperturbable calm, immutable, fragmenting an instant by a jungle swords, She reconfigures hieroglyphics, drowning mosaics, no patterns... Leave every concept, forget the word, cancel your next life and, don't forget to breathe! There is something waiting for you! sk Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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