Cervix Low And Hard But Period Not Due Yet

offense or the next century will be the refusal, or it will be an area prison.

sleep. Sleep, happy mortals. that sleep may be the last. mouth ajar. soft lips. a saliva coated with silt commissures. as a pale blood. like white blood. ra-ra-rattle of the undead. Life abort the heart slowed. hours of the night and dead. any part of the earth moving at the same time not to pile into the archipelago of effigies. rights expire approximately in his dream. Tomorrow is a mathematical abstraction high. tomorrow, which is only meaningful experiences.
in north

how to explain what happens in the trunk for those sudden bursts of blast that regulate beat on your arteries pulsations secret of the world? perception of being for good central hyper-responsive to the emerging world. thinking leaves the seat with a bang of captivity. addresses, includes, elucidates the micro-hairs. mathematical equations toughest, if it were proposed, would be resolved as common additions of two numbers. tore the mystery around me. I was coming from my clay. scoured my wings, I would take off my triumph. although my man's appearance has not changed and no one was able to distinguish myself in the crowd. this crowd of people on the move had resolved in its lowest volume, the size of a walnut, say, to agglomerate-free story to my own cells, circulate in my blood system with the same force that a nutritional liquid vitamin injection. the crowd was me. containing any living form. thence to m'annexer god at the same time, there was only one step. so I was the receptacle of God. and then god himself. and then the mind of god. and then nothing more than mind. light plume of blue smoke that lazy, indecisive, over the rooftops of the city. was one with ether. what was left in me became spherical plastic. like the stars. invisible as the orbit of the wheel. like the snake and the carcass of destiny. twould now my voice through the breath of the animation. I would ensure the anointing of baptism. it is water or fire. and if I come back here one day, I present myself to the gates of the city on a donkey strong and peaceful. to start, but this time victoriously fight against the hydra marshes.
in north

(...) it is tearing beauty.
in the mechanics of women


fruits of bird hunters
necks quivering leg in black stocking
light silhouettes on the table a hand with fingers that look indulge
annoying young foreign

laughter burst from the lips that buissonnent
storm blue hair aside
misunderstood all these words and accents that sound like
life is life and my life auction

day will come

time without me

day will come

of time without me

poems in scalded




you are the smell of fur
blue oil in the port


every wind their neck
salt and sands 'armor


you're forgetting a hairstyle
the silhouette of a decor


the game with a tender Torture
where the cheater is the strongest


you are the invisible crack
surveyor's death


in London

midnight strikes nowhere in the city.The wind grinds against the window of the darkened room she has a scarf on, casting the only heat lamp allumée.la is floating.
sitting on the edge of the bed, she knows that I look remove her stockings.
in the mechanics of women


keep the spirit alive. do not believe in formulas or honorary functions. live like it would burst. being of youth in action. making fun of the world and scream.
situation in