Edible Glitter Dissolves?

Time
ambush us from time in the time we licked the scars, time will camouflage and betrays us,
time and we break the shell of every hour ...
What will be the destination shelter is the sun at eclipse?
be out of the chalk circle drawn by yourself in the space / time? You would like to evict
inside and out,
window shades start giving your soul
and your skin will sprout a vine that completely cover
and that these questions were unanswerable
and you were safe as the contents of a box that says FRAGILE.
"Like a flower of recycled paper where there had written a suicide note"
you said but it was more than that,
was as if the snakes will eat your skin back to abandoned ...
After Al was a matter of time,
time and your arms breaking the shell of each hour
endless hours climbing skyscrapers is the fire escape
because the roof heard a voice say it's our damn voice
pyromaniac, damn voice in flames, damn your voice ...
"I would be another, different," you said, "tie the geometry in my moles,
like a magician escapist get out of these chains and latches that lock me in the face. "
A surgeon from a vantage point deep precipice see your flesh enslaved
and draw a square with lines on your face, and
anesthesia and with a scalpel and technology to enhance cheekbones
and sleeping in a bed with you and with your signature on paper just in case ... Six months
pendulum dumb moves in silence with onomatopoeia unrecognizable,
six months time and ours, and endless hours and bands ...
And the cells of skin and bones built years ago
empty and someone comes to your eyes and scream, "Yo, This, superego!
and returns the voices echo as if nobody cares,
as if throwing an empty bottle from a floor 18
and broke into pieces on the street
and those who pass will only parts broken and look up to see a face,
the face of the insane, an alien face, just to confirm that it was not them ... You will
this and be all and you will no
interior corridors running through a chessboard wet wet
semen rain, whiskey, tears, white spirit, and drive out
your wig in the mirror because nobody touches my hair,
because you discovered that love is not precious stone is placed between the sheets
not to sleep alone in that battlefield and lost ...
endure much longer the peach pit in the lion's mouth?
Yes, the time and we, and the lion and peach, and the puddle of blood ...
time butchers us, we removed the skin, eat the pulp and throws the leftovers of lions,
and waiting on the shore and the rocks waiting for waves and choking and
back into the sea but the waves revive and return to shore and die again and again reborn,
and us and them and lips of the shaking statues of poets,
bite not to say that before now were wave and carved stone at the request of the municipality and are
eat bread crumbs to pigeons in the squares,
those pigeons that were once bread without feathers and wings
and are now thought cannibals and are frightened for themselves and want to be different, be different,
but no output in this alley of mutilated flesh

"Visit to the plastic surgeon" by Remedios Varo
Thriller TIME (Kim Ki Duk film)

Megaphone Voice Changer

The arsonists and the summit of Everest

This sun is that a relief in the currency that looks like a sky
I swear there will be a number of the other side when we finally fall, because fall
one day to another, I'm sure.
courting Peacocks will not see their shadows,
be reading the labia of a mine dead
dead or indifferent do not care,
resizing thing as silence dry
is the flapping of a butterfly dissected
Moses broke the table against the calf, and God,
fruit that grows in the summit of Everest.
What is snow and what is the asphalt? Cursed
not respond to touch me, cursed me, cursed all ... Foundations
facts
costume jewelry with diamond while writing on the wall during these days I locked
as a Rubik's Cube split off looking at your pieces on the floor
not so much known name ...
recognize naked in the mirror and
genes is like having the first straw and cleaned in the wedding dress of my mother, hybrid
treachery and semen, white breast inside and outside ,
thick gray locked in the erect member Oedipus
gray because yes, sometimes the sky is pink and sometimes not,
because the shadow follows us as did any good ...
not come to visit me, you're with me on every beat, but do not come,
to bring me a lamp shade and nothing else?
I know you do not like you enjoy burning the filament see
but it's like in the bathroom humming the song of the summer, burn
see reassures me, is like biting your nails, like writing poetry ...
is beautiful to see how the landscape becomes diffuse with a focus
quiver trees are anchored forever as pawns in a chess abandoned
your face becomes another, like if you petted a distance, your I've seen,
the clock, yes, the clock back it seems painted by Dali, if you wanted to see it, only if you want ...
only see blood on the sand in the arenas,
do not care if it is blood of a bull or matador, only see blood if the blood is not theirs.
There are no matches or stoves, only half of pills and addicts
told you, is the summit of Everest without snow and without fire.
fourth degree burns on his arm and a whore referral to psychiatrist
Years spinning sheep for the soul, kissing her virgin pussy on the ex-girlfriends,
and eye drops .. .
At naptime if you shout "Eco" rumbles and you feel two or three times,
if you shout "Fuck" does not feel anything ...
I'll tell you not to come, you do not yell "Eco", which basically know what I mean.
teetotaler If I'm here they are fire and ice than abstainers,
eating leftovers as
dogs fighting over the bones to bury and dig at the summit of Everest ...
ironically are the steps to fire, every time I look I laugh,
seem as if they were made of ash, dark color and have that consistency that fragile.
Everything is made of ash, fire off, desecrated graves, bone powder,
alone in the center of the earth moving lava rocks as the saliva in your mouth.
What is gold and what is mud? Cursed
not respond to touch me, cursed me, cursed all ...

image Yosuke Yamashita in a solo piano concert (and fire)

Ejaculation During A Brazillian Wax?

The freaks and the midnight sun

The asymmetry is finally ours and not theirs, and not
we hide our cores, we are free, free
eye stone watching for us, free
which hung a rista of garlic on their doors so they will not timbráramos,
free and expelled from paradise and all ...
In the white of the eye are equal, and almost anything else,
Dolce & Gabbana for you and me
400mg lithium but no matter ...
A mother gives birth to Siamese
and crying that we are surrounded by stained sheet,
and only then will you will notice
Narcissus looks into a pool of blood from another
and then stay blind forever ...
ushers turn on their headlights,
show me my seat and go,
miss the midnight sun and the lamps of 25 watts,
the lights, opens the curtain
and even the darkness is a lie that I think other
I believe ...
Proteus Evil lurks in us
at least one lunar
like a drop of blood dissolved in a glass of wine,
and that is printed on a bar code in a Hall of binary numbers,
untranslatable Picasso paintings signed by anyone discovered
that we are, they gather dust cloths ...
skylights of all households are broken promises
windows of heaven are threatening to fall
phenotype and genotype kneeling
as suicide visit their friends to say goodbye, and
we went out and stopped the taxi, like bats
domesticated barely touched on his flight ...
sirens were no women with polio
someone boarded a plane and pulled the Dead Sea
and returned to the shore and kissed poets and died of cold
and were buried like a bag of ice after
spades and shovels salt,
and their voices were the silence dumb drum
hit blanking universal child,
the first beat of history locked ...
The myth is a maimed leg locked in a spiral poetic
and ignorance, and sometimes it is bad milk.
Otherness begins in our eyes
is a leak outside a wall with my name,
that is mine because they wanted another ...
I is improper this hair that has stayed with me,
dirty stuck on the vine of my chest, screaming
was yours, mine
being buried in a back pocket after
to buy meat for the cat,
that do not belong to anyone ...

"Jewish Giant at Home with His Parents in the Bronx" by Diane Arbus
http://diane-arbus-photography.com/

I

How A Virgen Woman Look Like?

Sexual

plant male an endangered species
traveling alone in a zeppelin to nowhere
below me are the ant and ant queens,
caged lions and free
's arms Venus de Milo
buried and the rest, which preserves humanity, they say it is art
that is also under me,
like a rock my foot chained to crawl naked on my journey.
reflectors are eggs hatched by fleeing from themselves,
hail and there are grenades that have come from the same womb,
no sex until hoarse as inert
is an axiom of subsistence,
a war of flesh against flesh postpartum neutered through the eye of a needle ...
I carry in my heat a pint of blood donated
and my wallet a picture of my mother,
the rest have been abandoned in the crumbling of the blue genes, reproduction
silent playback empty
as a factory dvd's being virgins masturbatory
into nothingness,
embryos all
bullet Rubber shot to the heart of the deceased.
I peel and seeds from the fruit of oil and saliva,
schizophrenic hybrid, evolutionary, and domesticated,
chewed by science and art,
grain of sand stuck in the nut of clocks ...
I stopped and made the future of a wooden doll that sat on my lap,
I did talk to my voice, say my parliament, and now
shut me
are crushed by Sandy Sandy ,
as a Moebius strip cut off and thrown into the fire ...
ashes are not just traces of fire, are also
genital wildfire that burned us,
that survived and that invades the pores,
that we deny because it's not ours,
invertebrate alien and ties us to our shadows boned ridiculous
witnesses the eviction of oblivion ... Nothing
forget fetuses, especially we,
forget even death, not even discovered ...
And what we found ...?
nudity, sex, sin, the silence ...?
The wheel, fire, America, a star ...? We
conquerors of our navel sealed by another
echoes of semen from another century,
gadflies tag flying around a corpse ...
Barcode hidden in fractals,
like vomit played himself
and creatures await incubators will also be vomiting,
beats that will become locked hidden door slamming
already latent in the depths of a being
me but I will not say to take my own eyes ...

"Evolution" by Otto Rapp
official web

Colon Hydrotherapist Salary In Tampa Fl

interior hallways on the source in offshore flares

The desert is a Russian ballet dancer
and the moon a pianist in the Ghetto Warsaw
kneeling in the sky and quietly reviewed the symphonies
nobody knows ...
will be killed with silver bullets
to birds in the trees in the courtyard
of women's breasts that I once read
erected their nests with twigs, mud and recently removed acupuncture needles
of this guitar without strings I'm
and neutering all the lions to sleep
without the roar of a beast that calls on instinct,
they call the stars light years away
that runs your bishop on the chess not
while the head of the fish returned to the sea once
is cut to make schnitzel with lemon
for people I never saw or recited a poem on fire
like someone removed flowers from a vase that was broken ... The
stoned a stained glass pieces are the syllables of a word is silent
and an ice rink is a sheet of tracing
the fate of men who have taken the shoes, instead
bag Ice is a belly desempotrado
a cold dead mermaid on the shore of the Red Sea
back has a huge amount of nails
as a free fork keys not lock open more
the clenched fist that takes without looking
and test and becomes frustrated and gives up
and sits on the doorstep of his soul made Glitter ...
Who had perfect pitch to translate the beats
origami swan buried in your flesh,
made with a leaf torn from my moleskine May
of May that it was in May and was
France where I was held hostage by an army of shadows
gagged me with the shadow of a pendulum
started a clock that never saw
that added hours never happened,
to continue without going
not give us mouth to mouth When we need a few minutes
because they know that it will be late,
is always late
we came only to see the waves fuck and lost ... Corpse
sweep the bloody sand of a cockfight
spiedo or chicken with fries, those are the options ... We
high Duchamp urinal signed by the size of a Stradivarius, our inner
is the urine of others, our scars
written words in the body almost always
names or insults that we deal with
as we walk the red tide reaches the shore and
no one takes a bath ...
Now that everyone has been able to build my castle with this
abandoned sand and not see anyone and no one will read it, it is only mine ...

"Fountain" by Marcel Duchamp
http://www.understandingduchamp.com/

The Sims 3 Jason Voorhees

As

looking kneels Pen ink hidden land ,
blue perfume dumb rock dissolved in the blood, dust
was not released,
navel of a spontaneous abortion as art of an arrow that missed its target ...
All this is not said,
to the eyes of the blind are two cactus
he muses opened
drinking the warm tears of oblivion dungeon
cuffed semantic words sadistic
that builds our shadow as a shadow castle of cards.
And on streets that silenced the touch of my feet that are just looking for a trace,
footsteps orphan inheritance rammed my past concave and convex
pretensions pendulum of a clock without
area because I am a drawing compass
square in the belly of your voice mining.
My bait is this omelette of sand and lime
as flares on offshore
nothing I can offer in this swamp of liquefied
eyes that this bunch of grapes imaginary
who know me and only me ...
drilling in the wilderness I
to hang a painting by Magritte
and replace all the walls for murals,
bricks not see anywhere,
or only when the tapestries uproot
because we try to tear
nails because we are convinced that false false
such as green eyes twice the risk
the actor that does not go over the scene.
Even when locked in this shell of voices
ventriloquists and even if the final point to finish a panoptic structure
do not hold back from filing the prison bars of the verse from the inside,
even this blink you will not exist for a second
force you to be populated by the ghosts of others to be
sarcophagus behind several shovels of dirt.
Stand under the doorway of any room
because I feel a tremor, a roar of healed scars
soil and after the earthquake can enter the library and steal books and poets
reciting will break the silence that fills you,
deconstructed the poet as the blank in another language,
locking themselves in the labyrinthine corridors of his desires.
And when you close the book bury the breath of someone from another century,
who loved other women, who saw him die other friends,
who dreamed someone to read, never knew that was translated.
Our duty is to write up a flower
rule in the heart of the dummy
and throw petals ordered
yesterday but still remains stuck in a prostitute orgasm
is a well non-oil and honey,
scream and although these pores do not know what to say ...

picture by Dimitri Daniloff
official web