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These legs do not feel hands, and the body lives a separate life from the head

Come on the coordinates, help glue your fingers, nails and palms

The skin burns, the young still will probably live and help to be a bag of your good

We are on the planes

about what? About the same as me ..

separation signs of the axis, impulses

We have only desires

Degree of addiction to sensations

The degree of proximity of this unreality

and the body is under control because

squeezing muscles, does not scratch the soul anymore

Indifference of coordinates

Understand, this is the art of being a dissected author

And we lie in the mode

We are waiting for the resurrection of empathy

I am lying, I look at the reflection

I fix the tongue into the foundation

You cherish your face, guard it

Imagine yours with a knife

Somewhere in space on one toponoma.

More so again.

Continium. Do not figure out where and what?

And what is it? Why?

The ideal points of planes,

In order not to hear your own crunch of bones.

I'm sorry, but the soul has the ability to grow ..

Such is the style and manners are simple

Collect your parts, collect my parts ..

Still hurts..

Our bodies twitch the screens

And the shadows in the cuts are three -dimensional

And now we can magnetize each other in different directions

Paka Nnashi pain will not be volume.

You are not radiation, I did not cut my capacity in the eyes of the eyes for the sake of space

Maybe turn off everything that does not concern us and we will laugh in short space

Sick a flat flame on me

And do not believe that my planes crossed you in you

Everything will now remain in the cracked sparkling wall -mounted nonsense cracks

And here are ugly beautiful breeds of rare creatures

pull the threads of these perforated wings

The plane of the neck agreed with the plane of the hands

And both screens went out ..

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slander is a browly false statement .. it is obviously obviously ... it is impossible to prove, no ... for this there are courts ... no, impossible