coming /Time never dies, The circle is never round.
- As the birds fly across the hazy sky, the people are silent. My blood ache for waiting.
1. WORDS/The language of blood,
the crooked shadow of the crooked moon,
please record the mottled and chubby grapes in the church on the cape
, the grapes that are about to burst, the
round tortoises surrounded by flames, the
flies humming in the ears, the yellow
bullets It's the locust that licks the
red tomato-like lips like a leech and the lips of love and
love. The champagne that is opened in the tavern can't be stopped Sadness can't be stopped, no one can talk , no one can explain this flashback moment Time is a messy tangled thread Time is a rag to wipe Time is a mess of blotting paper 3.PICTURES / Image of blood On a steep slope in low voices in a questioning life is the most beautiful landscape in the world death behind the rocks the beast of hatred crouches in its heart its fangs tear thin air the illusion of the circulation of time pierces all time End all big raindrops falling down, the rain will wash away
Will the blood and dust virus also collapse
May 21, 2008 Tan Jiadun
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