A piece of paper that will burn by its own words,
Im getting off, a little bit more off; Im not reacting with hate, im not disapproving at something. Im just not feeling well.
I am one of those with pale face at the mirror whom thing inside a box, there are magical things, irreductable ways.
Desire, desires are all it is made of
One goes, one comes.
I desire drop my dress and walk, rip my tits and separate my legs miles away, and then, just then, be reduced. Have right to say I am.