Remember the sign we saw, my soul. That beautiful, soft summer morning... round a turning in the path. A disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones. Its legs in the air like a woman in need... burning its wedding poisons... like a fountain with its rhythmic sobs. I could hear it clearly with a long murmuring sound, but I touch my body in vain to find the wound. I am the vampire of my own heart. One of the great outcasts condemned to eternal laughter who can no longer smile. Am I dead? I must be dead.
No comments:
Post a Comment