I must turn myself on the other side as they say:

We are mammals so the reflection of privation draws itself on 33 vertebrae in sketched dimensions. We die.

White spasm of fertility in the cervix and try to forget a casual glance falling under the Krill.

What did your young eyes see when your foot was even too small?

Suddenly that smile on the ceiling, the hands explore the face on the lake of the fishes that trusted me.

Frustration and delusion masturbate boredom just like the novae that losing rays are dead

or that summer light of a birch beyond the balcony, that I won't see again.

The achievement of the definitive loss ravishes the air how the big Prehistory teaches you.

I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a metazoa I am a met zoa I am a  etazo  I  m a metaz a I am   me az a I am a me  zoa   am a m tazoa I a  a m tazo  I am   metazoa I a  a metaz   I am a m ta  a I a  a  etazoa   am a met zoa I    a m  azo  I am   metaz a I    a m taz      m a metazoa I    a m   zoa   am a    azoa I    a   t zoa I a    m t   a   am   me azoa I  m    etazoa I a       azo  I a  a  et zo    am    eta  a   am    etaz    m   m  az    m  et zoa I a  a  e   o  I am   m  a o    am   me az a    m   metaz   I  m   m t z 

I am depressed.