Quiero vomitar. Todo contenido dentro de mi, me apabulla.

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Behind the window...

I enshrouded myself into a large song without any metric I mumble words of intensive tattle; this is my song and then no more No more accusing or provoking chaos smoothly sounds of joy There are the whisperings of my remembrances in your nights I wish to be absented of the lacerate everybody’s song In the complete silence of your breath, of your spicy humors to compose me A song without a word Without any word of vacuity A window trough my walk, walking wiry Papyrus of my dreams, anxiety in my bones, burning Slowly burning of ensemble voices, vanishing in a strenuous mean Concomitant evocation of my giddiness My song is not full of words but of sounds Exacerbation of my head Pleasure at my hands At my feet Continual nirvana of delight Together with me just these whirling temptations Of shock At my feet, specially there Where my whole relies on Mi song is not a song but a confluence of sounds All around! All, all around!
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"The Nine Years' War began in A.F. 141." "The noise of fourteen thousand aeroplanes advancing in open order. But in the Kurfurstendamm and the Eighth Arrondissement, the explosion of the anthrax bombs is harly louder than the popping of a paper bag." "Liberalism, of course was dead of anthrax, but all the same you couldn't do things by force." "Ending is better than mending. The more stiches, the less riches; the more stiches..." "There was a thing, as I've said before, called Christianity." "Hoity-toity." " Reason in itself confounded Saw division grow together" "Don't you wish you were free Lenina?" "I don't know what you mean. I'm free. Free to have the most wonderful time. Everybody's happy nowadays." "I thought we'd be more... more together than in that crowd, or even in my rooms. Don't you understand that?" "Knowledge wa
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Everything is so harmful Your words so insane I have doubts my feelings can no be holded upon you nobody deserve such a charming sweetness The historical moment of being humanized by the luxury of what is next. I behold week at my thoughts. I came to my mind with the guilty of killing part of what I was. What such a pain when you say ... there is so much humanity here. I prefer to be a alone, alone, completely empty of this dishaveling sensation.
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