Girdle Factory Outlet

Delirium Tremens. Somatic

Knock down a few words, so
see from the top of the plane, no
is lost in the fog
However, no returns.

The shadow of the ego is a nine mm
from my right big toe, if I
stained with the Holy Spirit at this, I would undress

embrace the cold wind
as a column of ice beneath the skin that stings,
saturated veins.
That old said to me 'gifts raining from the sky,
if you throw an umbrella'.
I live. I burn too fast
to remember the last rain.
But when I wandered along the paths I knew exactly

flower which would be born by the immobility of the stone
even under the snow, when Angelo
ran around nose in the air in ever stumbled
roots.
And I in the same cobwebs.
tremble for reliving a past, present, perhaps
always
I'm crazy enough to accept
is a fleeting kiss, or verbose.
and talk like me, love.
As much as I want to remain silent before the picture
wonder, yes
not only mine.

art when you offer me
listening to a child sitting on the carpet
cross-legged,
hanging from my eyes and lips
makes me a river of clear thinking
a mountain stream
a bunch of tadpoles in the water stagnation
rusty tub at the foot of the hill
where the moss is moist enough to allow

boars to scratch his back.

Cola a line of mascara will
a permanent wrinkle, wrinkled
that reaches the ear drum on tracks

invisible unless you

who are the key My
expression.