Severe Pain Underneath Left Buttock

Perhaps no doubt

Beautiful people I see many, so I hide Eros, in the still bright corridors, close to the skin. From the wide windows out, he can view the universe, but you will not look into my soul, before you stop and wait, your eye gets used to the twilight.

In the chambers of the heart I drew papers from reflected light, in the solitude of the high forest, I printed caricatures of memories, in their hours of birth and death, in the dark smoking chambers recessed I, in my beer.

Smoked breaths, smoked moments caricatures dipped in beer, canned packed, concealed - but did not believe in close to me, as the sudden ease my sense of surprised me. I sat, but it was not a game. So much

was lost, on paper illusions, and even banned the paper was not real. Lost are the fragments may be hidden, whose existence no one witness. But I forget tools, small islands in a storm sea of memory.

So much was lost that I no longer remember the loss. On the islands of my forgetfulness, I create memories, moments and breaths that I did not do to have their perception, because, sadly, beautiful enough.

My memory alive. My memory is a community. It is not only my forgetting and remembering, it is also that of others. I am declared insane, so I thank you. The crowd moved like the digestive tract, at some point you're right to be moved or shit - but crazy, you are in any case. Yes, even thou

The Journey of crazies goes where he discovered to be Nerd, where he always was, back where he always did not dare to speak of home, where he stayed, he would not of all trades dressed. Only in walking, is on a notion of home.

see the ugliness of people, I in number, so Eros is pointing to the battlements. It is cold there, so he shows them only the teeth, on the gray area in which the universe is so remote fancied.

Is it too quiet and too close, I see your grimace - but your Wounds, your scars and to know what I must pay when I come from a distance. I get to go to come back and stay again and again.

The cold snow storm warms me when I went through it, in the calm that I find when I rage - together we rage, but what we see? Strength in weakness, perhaps hatred, perhaps anger, leading to weakness in strength, but there also humility, self-worth into it, fainting in the power and authority in the Waiver.