Never flowers the space in its weightlessly clotted grow.
Like any whirling memory of a grape it may turn its geometrical dreaming into echoes as a mute radiant tale.
Its like I am pasted into it by the absolute.
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
Never flowers the space in its weightlessly clotted grow.
Like any whirling memory of a grape it may turn its geometrical dreaming into echoes as a mute radiant tale.
Its like I am pasted into it by the absolute.