.
.
.
Purple bubbles of illusory vacuum
merry whirl in the clear,
void that is empty, pregnant
lack of meaning and emptiness
and items that arise from a black sun.
About the black I will talk a little,
picture that cross me and recalls
the charioteer and winged chariot,
the sword to me is heavy in this
struggle, in the muscle the gangrene.
.
.
.
.
.
Purple bubbles of illusory vacuum
merry whirl in the clear,
void that is empty, pregnant
lack of meaning and emptiness
and items that arise from a black sun.
About the black I will talk a little,
picture that cross me and recalls
the charioteer and winged chariot,
the sword to me is heavy in this
struggle, in the muscle the gangrene.
.
.
.
1 commento:
But a SunLight will reach you, son.
Open, please, your door!
Paul
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