Parsfbel

Sister, your eyes are like the water of that scandinavian Maelström that did spit xentaurs over the cliffs of Xnaxn.


My love is in flames for ever: what we are? Animals. We are animals.

The baptism of the waters above seemed to be black, my love.


I loved the Jesus of the wounds like fury.
I loved you: could I embrace you, soster?


Nada.


A pilgrimage of suns chastises my back like all the.