April 25, 2013
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i feel nothing is better than nature, but also nothing is more cruel than it.
we, the truth of life lies somewhere in our souvenir. we, search for the past that doesn’t condense in the blood anymore.
it existed.
it gains the power of destruction. it flows.
new buds. insects.
mary is shocked. she senses the nature and the sounds of the birds.
mary is sad. she is depressed as the down falls. burgundy dots on yellow leaves.
memories inside me, circulate through my vein. i keep my voice silent. i can feel anything, the materiality of the quotidian.
mortal nails. black stone. dogs of sailer on the green.
beside love, where is the repos?
