---

From the plain hangs a reality chunk.

Everything is unattainable while dead;

the desire corrupts the death,

seduces it and transforms it into power.

Behind me the fear betrays me

(...from the sky the thunder emerges

like caterpillar of his cocoon...).



And in the further cliffs waits the image to be sight.

(Return) November is a decade.



(The sound falls upward and crosses with the drop

revoking the all the is one and of crystal).

Strange is the silence as the foreigner to the immobility...



The interstice between my ribs awaits a possible stab:

"All and now..." wanted the father, opening her legs

and she as a bitch lubricating to the order of the instinct.

(Millions attack to the one and turn him imperfect and vital... foreigner son).