The meal now is cooked Bob.
From now on, the fire would only ruin your meal...
the universe is a claim of a claim
the universe is a claim of a stake...
On still nights,
cold air suckles my rose-scented chin...
They crucify you
upon the uneven scales...
You hurt the true hearts and try to hide it from...
You hide your fangs...
First, I learned that
my aunty was schizophrenic...
Looking upon the red canvass
of flower buds...
There are no bite marks on his apple.
His toys are still in their boxes...
Hardcore feminism
in all aspects...
Life is such...
We can dance...
His sword defeats death
right before defeating all...
Why impelling feeling with talks,
bottling up something ethereal...