Unwritten poem showing the dead rope of aloofness naked street of youth knowing wild rage of stormy eyes the weather of childhood shall know the attitude of the saint in his bellowing awarness of [...]

Unwritten poem showing the dead rope of aloofness naked street of youth knowing wild rage of stormy eyes the weather of childhood shall know the attitude of the saint in his bellowing awarness of death we walk barefoot on top of madworld not seeing who we are killing stallion and breathing on ongoing savagery in yellow brains our cissors cutting through space thoughts into pieces like images gliding onto solitudes.

Ivan de Monbrison