Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Hogwarts School Blueprints

My Children 's Nabokov called


Gustav Klimt


Astronaut for Lili ,

The sky's fable who alone s'ombre, it lights, smoke algae, kisses watercolor. These immortal seasons saved by the mouth of suicide ... It flies with wishes of a negative blue to black hemp. Hoping hands and seas, gall, when a rising red ... When ascending to heaven with cyanide ...
To console
sarcophagus, with flowers Coltrane, where lianent veins in ocean villainy; death I married your skin praline UFO. And in the wind drowned burn! And fields children invent mandalas macabre ...

If pale sea in the Channel of your thighs Vasco alphabet a straightjacket for any force, I sowed my pelvis into the den of lions. At midnight breakfast of asthma, a voice response vaudeville, a cemetery full of sorrow organ ...

Nu as a quatrain of insane cares, or Eros fades, I forgot hang me Tango with a rope.

And my shivering in young disasters, nicotine neck, where I am in Egypt every bouquet of melancholy. And and and, orgy m'Irak, inconsolable pianos, when your iris m'anthrax, as a odor when my life away, stammering.

Rescuing weary years, I took the tram to your secret. Digging to look beyond the safe where you hide your time. Beyond the grave falls down I fall in ovation to the dose. But dark! Where hypnosis, I asked where I stick my head clippings with witches scum ...

Separated my name to spell your breasts, to my ears hares turret saliva hoarse, I lose consciousness as investigate the beating of my initials complex. So bitter for ink to break into my blood the wine mornings uninhabitable. I hoped the jellyfish in their underwear. But it was only ice, katana emotional.

Milan and - I would die of apnea in your room back.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Read Dragonball Online

Fawn perfume North


Andy Julia


In the unforgettable, nailed to the rosy hours, my shadow soon
arabesques and riots
the immaculate in your palm and dumb
he was still morning astounding confessions
to drown in a bath of hugs?

In solitude, however, does exhale the happy
goldsmith and a mouth like a lavender lip
subtracted to the hostage because the imaginary design

heareth not the real tables in the bright

here is the story in a strange storm
our futures too short and that
clouds are hanging by a thread battle
are beyond gorgeous and hot in the orchestra
arsonist flesh