Of your gone hands

The fault edge hole. By turning the mirror to capture the image of another mirror, it leaves the present mirror with no image to take or return. Because our love always begins. From the same point of life. Point and sex. Love and point. Recovering the most lost. There is no summer neighborhood. For the cold disdain. From your gone hands Of your index goodbyes. For those appendages everything goes. Sensitivity arrives. Pleasure. Pain away. From the very place of the body its refuge. Always look for meat. corrosive To iteratively return to the same place as love returns to the same point where it left off. brand new offered. Gratuitous. Delivered. How to mount to space. Like playing time.

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