small unearthed tonight love is in the ditch. We falsify company stone, your stuttering in the dark sea, as thrown off a cliff by an endless fall. I run with you away from this scenery lost, cold. Your hearse overnight us back safely home, where before you, love died a hundred times. I laid on your back, in addition to my kisses, my bitter prose, torn by worms. My poem tone body. What's more beautiful than this love without warmth when I slide on your skin and that the thrill is that terror? It pierces me in the silent night, silent, this bar icy that governs my spirits. From you I know more or less of your body no ghost I know the end, he said drowning, suicide, rescued the other day by a boat, torn from the womb, like a siren desecrated by the sailor. My little lover, I fell in love and you sleep, we will leave soon. I watch. Your lovely sitting up open your eyes closed crushed inward. The grip loosens, the agreement deteriorates, it is time to shut up. I bring you back to oblivion, flowers forever ugly. Bury the memories, my eyes are wet.
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