i do not know – sonnet

i do not know what love is. i would lie if i began to praise its light and wonder and hide behind some artificial sigh pretending that my soul’s been torn asunder by any of its charms in all my life. not even once along my days (or nights) deigned love to show its beauty, … Continue reading

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april. ruins.

the rain’s celebrations bloomed acid on the skin of the night as it lied stretched across the green hemisphere of my thoughts. from the ether some drop of salty tragedy continued to bother the ghosts, like a chinese torture, losing itself afterwards beneath the carnival mask that was covering with its rotten velvet and carrion … Continue reading

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