Because of some adrenaline-induced occasional poems, you read the poems that are true. They are dilated and moved loosely, looking for them. When you travel through different scenes, at any moment you realize that that is the real shadow you have deposited in the world. I belong to this place, and I will live and die here. I wrote a poem about autumn, I hope you will not hesitate to spit your saliva in my chanting mouth. I found you a dog, disgusting. In one place, he stood up suddenly, feeling dizzy, and finally nauseated in resonance with the audience. The sky was spinning, his forehead was cold, there was a lot of sweat, and his leg bones trembled, like a dog in the sky. Is dying of heatstroke. "In the kingdom by the sea, along the clear bay, surging waves, wave after wave, flying fish fly like seagulls, algae fill your mind, red salmon, jumping from heaven, jellyfish, seaweed, winter The seaweed, no one can stop me from calling your name, the sea, the sea, the sea, my cruel mother, and say, can you see... (vomiting)". Because of your seemingly good intentions and kindness, as the second party, I have to prostrate and accept it with gratitude, right, life. "Don't you feel sick?" Nauseous. Disgusting, from beginning to end. Are you disgusting? It's great, I'm sickened a long time ago. Come, together use vomiting to output the unbearable and foul things produced by life-it represents it and it represents me. Did you see my eyes? The harshness and contempt for you is not worth mentioning, but the inevitable physiological reaction is always going to roll your eyes and vomit a bucket of material. After the nausea is over, we will get along well, sweetheart, baby, our life. Wish me a good appetite, although you know I will not.
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