dunk as the land between two rivers. Poisoned by antibodies of my soul. Tortured by a beast that bears my name. Insubstantial as smoke. The smoke, however, obscures the view, you can go through, but it is toxic.
I wonder how many times I will be next to reach the goal, but afraid to flee before it. My secret is keeping me alone with him, and I I want to be alone with me. I wrapped in paper soaked in ink and blood, I keep it under a bell jar, and every night I caress its polished surface reflecting the moon in the sky.
death, it must gudagnarsela living. Then I will have my eternal peace, my silence, my perfect silence.
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