föstudagur, nóvember 16, 2007 a lullaby to close your eyes

all things are poison and nothing is without poison (...)
- paracelsus



she's a wave of sick butterflies
as she's counting the spiders
and the spirals
the web keeps closing down on us
i open up my arms to the the poison
she tries, she runs, she dies
i can't help it
i couldn't care less

this is my home,
this is my venom.

rafael at 3:32 f.h.