lunes, 18 de julio de 2016
domingo, 1 de mayo de 2016
Gallery of Reflexion
Morning’s
body is naked
the butterfly
is rushing in its garden
Last
reflexion, sculptures are dead
Our failure to
awake their shape
sculptures
hold the smell of men
Leave the expression of perfection
Leave the expression of perfection
Their grave is
some preachers’ reign
In their base
they are masters of a said
miércoles, 2 de marzo de 2016
miércoles, 27 de enero de 2016
Cualquier momento, Culaquier lugar
"La música transgrede en el tiempo y el espacio; pequeñas bombas de venganza reventando en tus oídos"
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)