i cannot find the method of my thinking
eyes bleed
i didn't be:come a great philosopher
not because i wasn't born in ancient Greece
churches and kings all do agency business
no one is interesting on Truth
i still have a sin that doesn't atone for
they say: nothing serious
then i turn into the first avenue
see the setting sun of July
my foreground flies to sky
as films
reeds and oranges would be putrid
whose coffin is still empty
saints were interrogated by devil
this is the turning point of caricaturist
my thinking hides in the coffin
my eyes bleed
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