On the thin wire of our lost illusions. Passes in creepage distance. A cursed galley. Crossing the tears of the day. In the waves of a sea. Our love drowns. Damages by the shade of this mystery which put to us on the ground. Radiate the lapse of memory of a radiant sun. I lie you, I can it. Remain to me only this artifice. Like ultimate whim. To believe, dream, hope, play of words. Dancing on the agreements of a piano. To charm you. To lead you on the cursed galley. Sailing on impossible seas with the flexible waves. To slip, vibrate, like. To like. To forget, erase. To wish oneself. All to start again. If you want it? The question burns my lips. I am feverish. Intoxication of a capricious body. Damaged by the insane chisel of a goldsmith. On the table of a languorous obscure light. Without regards for the disillusioned feelings of former lovers. Crossing the tears of the day. Without getting dressed. Empty tears of love. Falling on them scattered. On the cursed galley. Who each day returns. I will take you along. I would speak to you about this world where we would be well. I would seek to break fate. Of having to convince you. But, I do not know any more if I want it. Does my body want to still overcome? The weight of the years, the lassitude of your rejections. Only, I will go. Yes, only, I will go. To sail on the cursed galley. Against the wind. Without sailor, nor captain. With the salt of the escape. Like sabres at the end of the teeth. With the ultimate goal drowning my sorrow.
J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
