Nothing less than the sound of footsteps
Condensing into a shape
Sneaking into the murky urban cafe of crispy mornings
Realized it was a mirror after hours of work
They are filth
And also easily lost in the labyrinth of the theory of their
Own art this easily percepted
Within the 4 years
Of rain it became my own microscopic Macondo
It all meant little, if
Nothing What is the frase I look for Chaotic Dementh
Ah yes indeed. Been there before, fair lady?
A Copper medal I won at the chill-kill that day
Putrid Run, Salt Torment Thirst
Two fierce feasting parties wishing me warmly welcome in
The aftermath of their own cold war
Neo-colonialistic freaks says I
Tempers increase to hatred and vanish in cataleptic disorders
An apparatus of something, don t really know what
Remnant of the good that succumbed in man once?
The absolute legion of oddity
Now guess what in the world machina mimesis is?
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