The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous...

Strange, in silence, I lose
my way, my thoughts...

This was
a prelude to a prefix...

After a long journey
he wants to sit...

It was syntax
killing a kiss...

Flirting will broken bread
I taste a bitter truth...

An indecent
exposure. It was not...

The dead man speaks.
What was the truth? Partly...

I did not mean to hurt.
Do not try to flute...

Sky weeps, I was collecting clouds
from stillness of the sea...

In the culture of self, and wilting idol
who was going to interpret the truth...

Trapped in your body
a city starts...