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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