Let the apocalypse swirl through the South…

I won’t complain, 

When you will see two pairs of hands, tao pairs of fleshly legs, two universe inside two distant eyes, 

but dust soaked one and one with revolutionary water, 

You won’t complain too. 

Let this place renovate it’s appliances…

And let the pen make new mythologies and sceptic science fiction… 

Tomorrow I will be same, but tomorrow drinks will be better with some books in hand.