the fragmented feet of music. with paws and hooves all over. you train your epidermis to listen to new rhythms. before somebody else says what is this. nothing this is just a run over the whole specter of illusion. words uttered backwards. they do sound like a strange language you do not need to be taught. it is self-sufficient, obedient to the self and the selves of animals with paws and hooves all over. and for a moment lovers seem to be made out of stone. so rough, their love fragmented. time is needed for stone to settle. they do not grow old, these lovers. they seem the same. lean against me, body of stone. and the stones vibrate when paws and hooves run all over. your epidermis is now trained not to shiver at the thought of me. you are now a trained photo. to stay silent like that, seated on the time you’ve forfeited back then. to forgive you, to give you some slack, so that you may look back from the picture and smile. watch my present, and your future. your fragile breath sacrificed for one second until the shutter was open and closed again. but the future will write on the back of the picture the word fragile. the fragile word not to be touched.


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I'm a guy who likes to read and live his life as if the characters from the books he reads are always watching.

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