Everybody run here,
hyacinths are overgrown with blades...

Gods smell on death,
gods smell on death...

Lips cannot
touch liquid forgiveness...

Antibodies group as my third eye,
the second grave...

Veins are inkpots,
writers do not write, they bleed across the...

Analyzing anemic agony
fading; painlessly...

Antagonism towards quotidian eyes intumesces with...
behind denials of monochrome imperia...