21 dic 2008
Hymn # 17
Apollyon. Apollyon Sun the great; stolid incognito: impel me. Impel me out of the groanful lamina of the long days.
Did you know that the summer lies over a hope become azure?
Won't you throw a smile over my hobbles?
Over my dungeon.
Luthern of my stagnation; magnate: why this loathing to me?
Hey lucky! Won't you madefy this desert?
This death.
I am a hypocrite and my madness is in front my eyes every day.
... keep in mind that it wasn't easy.
To me.
... And I'm entombed, yes I'm entombed in impotence; hey light!
My veins don't recognize my own blood, and spit it out in rage.
I am lost and lonely here; I am sterile and empty, hey unbeaten.
Like the Ocean, you know.
If you would turn these blinding ivies into a too tangerine dream
before it's too late.
Before the volturine vulva...
You, who can be a wagtail. Or the incommensurable welkin: please, help me.
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