Last kicks to the words

 Last kicks to the words. To cloud them For goodbye to make blank eyes, smooth backs, nape bitten in the great spasm of life. The fall was from the seed. Sowing God the seeds to come. Sans paroles de mensonge. And it may be that the distracted person hears it, is moved, cries and trembles, breathes badly, wants to die to stop that pain. We had the weariness typical of half-used trips. A place a lack. Missing as worn old worn clothes. Through its gaps enters the cold unity of God. It destabilizes. It "unties" in the absence of the "a-hook" that only came off towards Hell like a haro of fire that permanently creates the necessary vacuum.

Write en miroir. Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.