1. The ambush
Devoid of emotion or intuition, to let all the way to that of spectators. A receptacle, a temple externalizing feelings of the visitor. I did not know yet but it is at this moment that broke the bitterness that made me haggard and weak. As the wind direction suddenly changed direction and imperceptibly. There were a few tears did not flow and came from nowhere. They were adulterated, fake and cold as those of a virgin plaster, self-centered illusion, the crying of a cat with conjunctivitis.
2. The den
J'éventre barriers that are atrophied, j'étripe the despot of the world against rests on a base where the key word. The spirit that moves in you, that makes you a child does not die with your old age, let him just keep you in his hideout insolence. And you look ahead to what will be your due, not too get close for fear of not being able to enjoy the forgotten corner in an alley impersonal.
3. The worship of gods greedy
blood escapes from bruised bodies, altered images that are tired. I'm swamped and lose myself in a vacuum of empty words, deaf and without noise. The term crude oil falls from the sky to describe what I see, a sense of repetition that we must side with a little imagination and a mischievous look.
4. The impostor
The weeds nestled within the walls, the leaves is carried off a sudden gust of wind, wild flowers, frail and delicate, almost invisible and the rain does not stop pounding the roof a repetitive music. The impostor feels oppressed by the spectacle of nature. But everything gets fuzzy and goes away, only emptiness remains.
5. The animal spiritual
Reactions shapeless, dismay and disgust are glued to reality. As a lowly insect, it agglutinates despair and yet the passage of time. It leaves only the artificial, even the vacuum is adulterated. Fighting over and over again for yourself, no one escapes it and build it all. Opposites attract to eat and sometimes they come to love. Consistency is only a dream, we can contain it. I am an animal boiling roaring ceased too early to jump. I am an animal and look dreamy and meditative to reappear in my den contemplative, cool and refreshed. Then resumed the race, I run in all directions and can not linger. I caught the world becomes picture, me, the spectator and admirer, I sometimes feel pursued. No Wisdom is perhaps not what we thought or that you want. You know I do not believe you ...
Eric, 11/010, ty, be.
Dedicated to Cyril Collard
With help from the animal, the word 9,
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