gugle translarte
My substance once was flair
Now my body port programmed with green and many poems,
Dismayed, I'm wiping dust
Shouted someone in the end all forest and I act strange again.
Take acceptabilule, modest destiny
And deception and concepts are alcohol as an antiseptic
Days pass when you reason and search and illusions
Excited that do not live for something
Catatonic, I paint pathological picture
Sub sonic diagnosis is mourning
Why such sadness, literary critic, via MySpace, George Calinescu
My black coffin in the chest, schizophrenic as ascetics
The opposite of life is my invention.
Allah in Arabic means what??
A thousand branches but a barren root.
What is life when you're only part poison?
Are like lava from a crater, is the blade of a knife
Lara in Tomb Rider riding a cannibal nursery
Spit with the same care material (ie pass???)