my first love was literature:

my first skipped heartbeat belonged to lazy afternoons
when i skimmed my hands over the surface of an open book,
all surface tension, skipping stones and soaring -
i could not get enough.

next was my fluttering stomach, from tempest-tossed evenings
when fiction and a flashlight were my friends
where i read of silver mountains and dreamt of golden seas -
(the best books always followed me in dreams.)

and last, my first hitched breath, stolen from moon-still nights
when i drummed my fingers across the printed words
to soak them in like moss does fresh-fallen rain -
and that was when i knew that i had fallen

deeply, irrevocably in love.

A damp, unkind, unrequited, poisonous mind. The sofas are already trying on lingerie, stilettos and luxury lifestyles, and may feel offended when someone stands up on a spontaneous heel and judges a person. This can only become the cultic, exotic petals of the bachantic guild angels and ***** canaries who ******* their souls.

Like an insect, the dirt, with some contoured makeup primer, recreates their self-indulgent frustration from long, persistent suffocating cigarette smoke. With its proud exotics, its lily-of-the-valley headlamps are backed up by a lustful desire to lure, a step-by-step pride: how to be more effective and better off the vulnerable prisoner of one's selfish-greedy life ?!

Human, ambitious morals also become negligible goods! Houseplants with their hairs surrounded by sneaky peacock snakes, they carefully strangle their current V.I.P. The blurry, crystal clear, concealed light stripe can quickly cut and strip the syrup pitch paths of darkness. - He wraps himself in a corner with enough silicone bosoms and pains the stigma in his ashes; as a woman so they could never be humiliated!

The hollows of hell are bubbling up in the heat of his disguised inner-tempered fervor; the creepy cold mastery of waiting passes through the curvature of his body's petal petals. Silent in the violence, the little girl then breaks loudly, growling to the surface. His pleasant dignity is already in the news, and there is nothing.

As he is once again slapped with fierce, ruthless executioner hands, a murderer pleads with embarrassment for his soul. - In the sea of ​​invisible emotions, the eggs of the Universe lick the hyena-ink fish - and he, too, feels the secret responsibility of best ever ending the betrayal of his body, enjoying his radiant motherhood and living a viable second Life of Hope!