Twilight.

The twilight sun dazzles you.

You don’t need more shadows than your own back’s shadow.

The lies emerge from the buds that the winter has brought in a bundle of leaves of a diary.

The lamppost of our dream is a fluorescent colour wire which only lights the lonely souls of the dogs.

Don’t think about what I said, the truth is on the walls of the snots that your nephew kindly left behind desk where you had your first orgasm, which it wasn’t the same as your love, waking up of the deep and endless dream of milk.

You are too sad to say two words with four fingers of forehead, stick it down the throat, you’ll see colour elephants rising stairs to get the road to hell.

On the other hand it isn’t too bad, free roof and food; your sins will be left immuned to the cold hands of the dead whose souls wander in the desert of desires.

Don’t let be dazzled by lies of the pious tree branches of flattering cat's eyes.