Open soars, open doors.
Scaling through the bodies' liquid stone.
In black days, he quivers; shocks of smoke and entrances beyond the suns' liquid stone.
I see the second place bodies are dragged and their feet glow dark - An old child stares into the mystical theater and chuckles.
Many men simmer wet: solid liquid.
Sewn by The Woman who stares with no gun
Luv the nun
Grey Fun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem