Make laugh to me. Make suffer to me. Play of me to weaken about it. Enjoyed each day until your last sigh. I want to see you boiling. Of rage or pleasure. Since it is necessary to vomitting some or to curse me. Leave the window of your heart open. Your only future. Until dying about it. I am intransigent. One evening of festival. Accommodating in a beautiful apartment. Cold of the winter, the heat of the summer. Corrosive you. Chains of cobweb. Being spread out from the top of walls to the slats of the parquet floor. I never entered there. But me was told. The cruel death of an idea. That to like before being misled. At the point to throw itself on the paving stones to burst some. I know that you can play about it. Of a detached attitude. Even exaggerated. Make laugh to me. Make suffer to me. Play of me to weaken about it. Give me by making me believe that you can begin again. Without hesitating. For better withdrawing you. Later. When we are in the black. Without hope. To believe in it more. I do not want to see it. Leave the window of your heart open. I hate the storms. Do not make the head. It is thus. You say that it is small. And then? To love you am I wrong? You have remorses. To think that you cheeks with the fate. Make laugh to me. Make suffer to me. To love you I know that I am not wrong. Without remord. Until death.
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
