jueves, 10 de junio de 2010


When the gavel of truth hits my casket, I'll be beaming to the muse of life without scattering, without the awestruck of the prankster life.
God gazed at me and I can see in his pupils the dusk.
All this hallucination to enjoy the uttermost of writing.

It was a dim, moist day when I felt the gall to grin with sharp teeth.

No hay comentarios.:

Publicar un comentario