in the bowels of fire there is a river that makes counterpoint to its totalitarian desire . the fire is selfish : it leaves a flower in water & dies .
this place screams your name & tries to flood the evening in hell . calmness is something imitable in his state , however , sharp - eyed features already condemn an unchanging ferocity . his words stopped the pause . hoarse / soft voice with sinister volumes ceased . giving rise to endless silence , body generates flames & speaks for itself : THIS IS PURE IRRITATION . calamity is yours & you will not let anyone untie you , rebellion runs through your veins & it has kept this heart pounding in the chest . ‘ repeat what you have said & you will be wind food . ’
@mideoku / src .
