The urban sphere of London looked like a bouquet of flowers on the edge of a balcony, lost in the mist, camouflaged in part by the pollution morning. Emily loved this city and its human mobility, this mass of unknown beings and constantly renewed, like the phoenix playing its sleight of hand between the holders of its burden-power. In his eyes, the faces appeared fleeting, familiar for a moment, then finally forgotten. One dies in London as in New York in such a degree of indifference that the city is no longer, but fragmented, torn between its millions of individual microcosms and strangers to each other. Social networks are so large that people are sorted to Favourites colleagues college, colleagues at work, babysitting plans and whatnot. We have become clones within a formicaries queenless. Honey has lost the flavor of collective work and rebuilding the city as the Tower of Babel failed to stubborn projecting toward his goal, in large obstinate rebounds and surprises and unexpected improblables, the idea of bringing men. Instead of the meeting, people do not know, a common language available but refused appeurée contact with the other so close and detestable. If
metros could show that the heights have failed and we live like rats folded into sewers of our cities from the vertical to the horizontal, we would fear to realize that nothing in heaven and no intrigue us as it is now the depths of interest.
And if that was the last time I saw her? And even if this final interview never took place?
Lost in my hopes I'll stay in my dreams in which I am forever in his arms.
... is the only group that makes me so effective as a picture of it when I imagine. In my never far distant ideal, my dark side and shaking that I can not contain.
If I could tell him how she participated in the person I am today, how it made me more than anyone in my life. Figure
distant, mysterious and brittle, inaccessible and cruel, I prostrate myself before the extent of your damage. Scars never healed and I belong to that mark how full and complete. You-only have been a mentor, you-only guided me and come to life. Your influence has become a burden that I must rid myself, to live beyond and without you. Where the floor has shamefully failed. Forever, forget the substance of dark bitter regret.
And if I erase you now, breaking ties close between us, maybe I'll eat my own bread without the guilt of having eaten yours, and then finally I can have my own life, individual and cons you. Into oblivion. The metro
frightens me reveals the features of the ice that freezes people in a static silence. The mouths are closed, sad eyes and the doors open and then close with the same monotony that the path executed by the car mechanically. When you walk do not you feel the freedom caressing the cheeks, the wind against your face while you walk the streets, a different route to each exit. Hear a different route each day and appointment will finally pointed to the value given to the word travel. The trip route that you worth nothing in this huge underground map where the crowd piles up as one and the same black bile. So I continue to walk.
The moon dips its color at the bottom of the retinas suffering of Alix. Misty glow in the swift currents of his night of multiple orgies. The bitter taste of vomit ejected just floated in the counting of hygiene, teeth covered with a fastener patteuse gives his language smoky pain of regret. The burning light of distant lampposts and lose it in the closed bottom of the night before his feet. His deep throat cry rape of an alarming avalade most violent, while the blue of his wrists set off in the cool night eaten, she writhes in front. Soul disorderly sudden fears, bushes reflecting on the ominous shadows cute little white walled district lucky. Wallets copper leaving the phone and the magnetic heat television, the road becomes wild. The stomach takes the identity of a murderer and a torturer divine veil of modesty, it ejects again the ecstasy of her last night. Beige cat crosses the road while riding his four-legged birds, Alix sees more.
than random because I'll never see the end.
And now back to music! I just posted the interview Krank! on Coanthem! Happy reading!
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