It's hot today
you could call it an oppressive atmosphere
my chair is decomposing the hard notes
back into an atonal melody,
natural chaos of love.
The seasons of matter
tells me I have to brush my teeth
after this I will put them in your warm thigh
and we disapear
in the pink wind
like a bunch of innocent virgins.
(guild free your sins ain't mine, but I'm part of it anyway)
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