I want to know the blidness that kept his hands sliding and moving as if two scences were bundled and expelled from the already darkening white shade, pearling infront of his paintngs, There he found the secrets of golden asps and seductive tones
that manipulated Antonys weakness for powerful women. But now the blank verses of god and poet live to the imposible idea of finding secrecy and sharing the myth that his scribe would have to live with. The hardest process of sinking your open thoughts in hot salt. The painful scars of reliving and redoing to go out into the night hoping it wasnt your last.
