The slytherin or the pussy, the re… Giving knowledge and fire to their… Praising for the death of a dubiou… Setting the stage for the real con… Not original, that’s an argument o…

Who likes a phone call during oral… Who stands in silence knowing it i… Has any rage or hate in so born pr… Poisoned the soul, destroyed the b… Still I will not be an ordinary n…

I lie with no intent, I lie my so… Tomorrows not dawned, dusks without nights I lie for being pawned I lie for pity of lost witty,

Microwave rice with things in it It’s what I usually eat. Now, while I wait to dissipate th… This rude description has been let… Analogue to I, feeling stranded,

« Je me trompe peut-être, mais le ça, le moi, le surmoi, le moi idéal, l’idéal du moi, le processus secondaire et le processus primaire du refoulement, etc. – en un mot les grandes mach...

I see a train arriving at the stat… A train coming from a far away nat… Someone said that I should be wri… Looking, mirroring trains, how int… Experience needs some evidence,

This is the day where I was calle… My writings unbearable for some in… Well one may say better stridulous… Writing is an extension of humanki… Nobody is owner to pages, critics,…

A Pica do Poema do caralho: não sei que caralho valho! Redundâcia é tripla, Que caralho é esse malho Com que foderei teus cornos, esmag…

Sorry to enter your beautiful, coh… Das Wort ist das Lebens des Sein… Well, Martin, only in part, the b… Feelings not translated to languag… Or whatever gets a knot in your st…

All of my Sorrows renewed Into unwanted tomorrows From the ashes of dream and desire Into little nothings of rage, emot… How small and insignificant our au…

considering the history of modern mathematics two questions at once arise: (1) what limitations shall be placed upon the term Mathematics; (2) what force shall be assigned to the word ...

Beyond some pain and distress Lies a world of unending sorrow So profound, So inlaid, it comes with music. One never gets accustomed

Write when sad or angry, say, if y… After falling back to listen to D… I confess a choice of empathy abou… At this age, a voice from the fift… As a naturally promiscuous but fai…

My secret is not such My secret is not as much. The key for the unintelligible is… My head is a sort of hoarder attic… Smells of decay without friends