Sister. your eyes are like the water of that scandinavian Maelström that did spit xentaurs over the cliffs of Xnaxn.
My love is in flames for ever: what we are?
Animals. We are animals.
Sweet animals.
The baptism of the waters above seemed to be black, my love.
I loved the Jesus of the wounds like fury.
I loved you: could i embrace you?
A pilgrimage of suns chastises my back like all the.
´
