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These cracking bones corrupted their way towards your silhouette, sacrosanct and smooth. The flicker of halogen, like candles in churches I never worshiped. A thing of beauty perhaps, for those with eyes still in sockets. I can't believe in anything anymore. This air surrounding not crown but hood. I cannot see, I cannot live, I cannot breathe. This crackling dust erupted from wires transmitting what was once opiate. An abstracted projection of desires injected as quickly as possible into the giddy nervous fools. A thing of joy perhaps for those with nerves unfrayed. I can't believe in anything anymore. This air surrounding not crown but hood. A fabric of lies. I can't see, I can't live, I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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