The flowered lips of fate.
Like in a polished cruel slumber which inhales the nothing i want from this long doubtful guarded thickness of its heart.
I shall bury my head, my defunct kisses.
And bury the lie.
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
The flowered lips of fate.
Like in a polished cruel slumber which inhales the nothing i want from this long doubtful guarded thickness of its heart.
I shall bury my head, my defunct kisses.
And bury the lie.