215. WAT ARUN TEMPLE

215. WAT ARUN TEMPLE

215 Wat Arun Temple we fly over among the distinguished heroes we hide forgotten rats we get choked and they beg us to fly. When I thought I touched the belly touched the spine and when he thought he touched his spine he played belly skin. v no a. Let's accompany this storm with artifice so many lies are stored on the pillow. Shaking mud sunflower Embellished, immaculate or unspared? Versinia pestis remembered it After the shadow of his flying gear The Old Continent Let the pigeons fly unsorry, innofitable and useless now praised by Budda ranma at Wat Arun; Wings in butterfly and mantis and clinging to the ant; middle-track sky, staggered ecstasy collapsing all desire Flying in a thousand petals the earthly existence. Total fuel consumption one by one hundred thousand previous stocks remaking the universe evolving and dissolving again.

There is no beginning there isn't, you ended up lying to us, today they are sewers water to reach the sea and fall back deceiving ourselves behind the clouds, white, but dark as they dissolve every afternoon, drop hollow fuel, flame of existence; temple like points and needles to remember the calm of universal and existential pain.

Domes for the immanent eternity of all things; set the balloons to remember that the soul does not exist And twist and turn this toothless shaft dragging a_ shadow_ da sphere also cyclical pillow toys fire cars, easing the dust, wheels on their axles relieving nothing gunpowder, scabies or pimples, all over your skin.

man does not exist, his impermanent substance your foolish stability, O empire of Bangkok.