The image returned to the mirror

Between head head accesses open. A cultivation of the land of blood. The image returned to the mirror. All liquid looking. New and thin. They are possible when you come. From heart and foolishness you come. Such a well-known day of silent heart. That it should not be night. Of the maybe Where the howling disappears. Without knowing what howls they are. Round black. Distress eating. In his entire determination. That does not leave the sky as it was. Not even veneration recognizes it. Ejected by the poison of the mouths that spit their essences of hatred into the air with fresh flowers adorned, rejecting the poisonous smell that surrounds it. Impious, who in their belief to believe, take snatched mythological tongues of fire to burn to ashes the other goodness distilled in clear innocence.

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