Of the dark books

 And the calm waters are worse. From God deliver me. Of the dark books. From the sources of the leaves. Of which we will not drink. Not in long figures. Which are thrown in our face. Or out the window their pots throw. Defenestrated. Windows defenestrated before the howling. Before the dawn of the future. Who wakes up early so that God helps him in the consolation of all the desperate. Although others have worse evil. Of consolation fools before the nights of consolation that when the pillow does not put terror it lays eggs of illusions. Not shimmering gold between bright dreams leaves us between the legs with something animal. Coco on a trip to terrify comes while your blood rises to your face that rises with the elevation of the clear beads minus the thick chocolate. Thick Liquid Knife - Short digestion most of the time. Although inside the stomach the eyes do not see among so many tickets sold above the capacity; we will have to throw out the supernumeraries who occupy each of the full seats two by two. Please, ushers, have your eyes averted from the big screen of the big feast.

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