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The Red Call To Watering Cans Boy!The Red Call To Watering Cans by ~FumoDaFrase
This is a stroke in new paint, only partially consequential in direction.
Vulture reflections, all in the same frame, equaling washing-machine-like autophagy
Take me and you back to the white tiger-fingered boss, but there are conclusions hanging!
Look ma! No hands, no eyes, but he pierces our dresses like butterflies made scissors...
So
Our flowers are bloated at the stem but shouting the revolution at mountain-tops and commune meetings
Our flowers are songs that loop onto themselves because that is what Right does.
We circle off those who hold adolescence in stride while taking smiles to the bank
And high-strung hypothesis of
KDjkhdsjkagda Barril de pólvora pendurado dos teus dedos de pianista,KDjkhdsjkagda by ~FumoDaFrase
desculpas parvas refugiadas na cova do teu dente,
e a música flui.
Expiras algoritmos desactualizados, com força,
angarias no peito saudades de nada,
e a música flui.
Alvejas o branco com precisão desengraçada,
alvejas-me o braço com certeza desengonçada,
e eu quase respiro.
Archomai Sugo com palmas de puto o brilho aos momentos,Archomai by ~FumoDaFrase
e mando berros numa miríade de direcções, mesmo que não as veja,
novo e suado.
Olho em frente, ou tento,
ou finjo,
e não gosto.
Passarei o pé p'la porta,
cliché por cliché,
e nada terei a reter com anal dedicação
por nada querer reter,
por nada ter brilho chegado às minhas palmas
aos meus olhos
à minha cabeça e coração
de puto!
Flashed Plastic The minute hasn't passed.Flashed Plastic by ~FumoDaFrase
You light another napkin and draw a harsher fire into yourself, through the moldy cigarette.
Rain batters the house comfortably, and you sway to its sound, and wish you'd have the beauty in you to hurl yourself outside, spinning, to be battered yourself.
Instead, when leaning to the front, the smoke strikes your eyes and wets them, clouding the magazine's place in your head. You rub your eyes, you stop the sway, and take it in your hands.
There are still flashes everywhere, through the grey-tinted weight; lipstick, fashions and bodies throwing themselves at your head, trying to make a clear impression. The only o
*
Sta.sh
