her lune, how precise and anticlastic as if each horror you provoked could somehow make me want you
I sit at her bedroom window an age where branches hung themselves Antigone.
Dreamscape under his influence even the earth Trembles and quakes.
[I] fell and fast first frost and finally coquelicot death.
A kaleidoscope in death take me where the poet lays for I should never see again the final act; halcyon;
Silhouettes, pretty girls dancing with Devils and elves joined hands with Sentient sunflowers, bliss, bliss
you handsome devil, there is a dream impregnated to drunk poetry and death of consciousness like the bare feet of winter
You fear the wind,
You fear the chance,
You fear plagues and of death;
Little auspicate, you’re winded, and drenched
By son of Ares and Aphrodite,
A little auspicate, therefore dreamt the worst;