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gothique et romantique

Vunerable

Publié le 26 Mai 2015

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Turn and returns, moves forward and moves back. The perfumed tiny law of the animal smell. Making drunk our senses, confusing our dreams which fall over. The head back to front on the banks of hell. The unfortunate eyes, our rainy days. The sweetness of your hand. Cold and sensitive to cold that I retain. A habit, the routine, a fact which makes that it is so. Without waiting for anything, just considering far towards the infinity. A habit, unpredictable characters of a blackboard. Dull in dark tints hidden in the grey of clouds. Deriving pushed by the wind towards other banks. Aimlessly, tired, used, exhausted, arms, legs ruled out. Floating between heaven and earth, a bitter honey flowing slowly. Nights nowadays fall asleep, wake up. The hope to be with you for ever. Tramps of the nothingness. Children of the providence, our infinity which turns all around. Without other project than to be pulled. By the weightlessness, its torpor. We wait for nothing. We hope for nothing. This is the way écartent our days of our nights. Split by the lines of the dial of the clock. Its knocks which hammer the body of our laziness. By liking basking in the labyrinth where we accommodate. I admit, I confess. That hell is our earth. The paradise our life. The pulsations of the requiem of our confusions. Electrify the jolts of our passion. Your hand in mine. Mine in yours. Romantic, fervent lovers, your devilish body. Made by me an alcoholic of your senses. Turn  and returns infernal dance. Divine and fleeting. Mischievous and firm. Of the animal and rough slow dance of your fatal essence. Around me in liana the cordon umbilical. Of your guilty attraction. Me, the improbable seedy person. The pathetic beggar. Our dream wonderful to be both. I am crazy. Certainly jealous person. Happy. I admit it. This is the way it is written. That hell is our earth. The paradise our life. In the somber of the black navigate our shadows. Irradiated by the atom of our particles. Turn and returns, moves forward and moves back. The perfumed tiny law of the animal smell. Of you, me. Inseparable, similar, vulnerable.

le sang de la nuit, la naissance de l'ange, decouvrez le dernier roman de steffan urell

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