Nothing less than the sound of footsteps
condensing into a shape
Sneaking into the murky urban café??? of crispy mornings
Realized it was a mirror after hours of work They are filth
And also easily lost in the labyrinth of the theory of their
own art - this easily percepted Within the 4 years
of rain it became my own microscopic Macondo It all meant little, if
nothing What is the frase I look for Chaotic Dementh
Ah yes indeed Been there before, fair lady? A Copper medal I won
at the chill-kill that day: Putrid Run, Salt Torment,
Thirst Two fierce feasting parties wishing me warmly welcome in
the aftermath of their own cold war Neo-colonialistic freaks,
says I Tempers increase to hatred and vanish - in cataleptic
disorders An apparatus of something, don t really know what,
remnant of the good that succumbed in man once? The absolute
legion of oddity Now guess what in the world machina mimesis is?