"My Complexities of desires prohibit mine river of blood and lust towards burning the bird myth of creation and regeneration to rebirth the sensities of me. Thine river runs and falls with me, along with them, and the sky that had been placed so high and so far by the hands of my mirror self and my other selves and me are the causation of the hypothetical suicide of my youth.
There is a second blood that licks me hauntingly. Crazy repetitions of screaming negatives, yelling and yelling. I am fixated because of this, and deeply scarred. I blame every monk, but not the ones directly involved.
Phoenix, create and create and live then die. I want nothing more to be like you. Lick lick like the candy that oozes from under the netherworld regions. Hatred forms, and humble pleasure of mine mirror rewards him with regality.
Whom else might they own prejudices owned by me percieved only be mine? No one else, as I am not a mask for I am the only God amongst the dolls. The river is calm and quelled, now the Phoenix can thrive amidst the black fog of mine prejudices. Run run, ruin thine screams of fear and die and live after life again. If thou shalt not be worthy, wait till death, then thou shalt be worthy."
Words words words words words words tackle down me messages.
