They trod the mirrors with bare feet their own crunchy waste

The will of the movement of that which freezes it. There is the proof that the mouth was not a mouth. But fierce. This month at least, or what's left. With that of the passing of the mirrors. That's what they said at least. With their glass tongues. With his broken swear words or his chances. In search of lost souls because their bodies fell. With a crash Noisy. Crystal crystalline. With their dark souls. To create forced opposition. They trod the mirrors with bare feet, their own crunchy debris. Steps upon steps with cracked feet. They find they do not find the traces they have not yet left. Due to lack of steps or shoes or useless desire to walk.

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