char - the hunting climate or the completion of poetry

My pure sob followed by its venom: the brain of my lover wooed by shards of broken bottles.

Ah! How the house of eclipses, which dominates by discretion, produces darkness. We’ll surely end up remembering the direction taken by certain storms in twilight’s rapids.

In love, there is still immobility, that giant organ.

Late at night we went out to pick the indispensable fruits of my death dreams: purple figs.

The archaic bath-shaped horse carcasses pass and fade. Only the fertiliser grade speaks and reassures.

When at length I set off in a viewless world, all the vaporous leisures by the big orange tree.

During my high hectic fevers, a young girl with a toadstool waist appeared, slit the throat of a cock, then fell into a languid sleep, while a few metres from her bed a whole river and all its perils flowed. Ambassador deported.

     Defence of love violence
     Asphyxia diamond instant
     Paralysis errant gentleness.