198 SAINT ANSELM

198 Saint Anselm

The strings crack That cut the breezes Bolts, both from slaves Like the heart of the highways

In my locked up, Rose of fire, Good is the rebel, They exist out of mind That in mind.

Believe to fly The glow among the forges To avoid suspicions, castaways, The snowflakes, of the torrid Christmas, is the one that the architects rejected, With an olive tree staying up late in the onslaught, a pine fragrance, of my liberated, The expected, thorns on the skull, next to the gas and the tree of the cross Let him turn away in the smoke.

Annoying meats. "In charge of these" Sin and emphasis Cathedrals of suffocation, The reason. Bottomless With mode or mode Sign diamond Terms of Service terminals sometimes or today cry, flushed, the pride. the injustice end up.