A barbed wire separates the world twice as high and low. Above the moon, the sun god, the clouds, the divine stars. Below the mud, silent screams of the victims, the obscene worms kinked. Sooner or later the top is confused with the low. It happens all of a promiscuous manner, close, dirty, sexual. But there is no mode. The celestial world is no longer pure. And who turns away from the bad taste, the low-down on the ice. The point is the mix.
L.
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