1) A midden of the gods
The bars of ice withdrawing, illuminating time; you, unlike the damned. The baseness of the talking situation. Both heard, only blissful and mocking, helping to strangle, her, the paralyzed glinting stomach to be. Looking for touch they realized the antibodies then opened...
2) Harness of the middle time
They settled, rosy on the brow. When they came it was still, but cripplingly distant. The few that had burned, so the stained mind. In his hymn he was the disease himself, the green haven, the one flickering with the mystery. To open cold, they say, given that like torpor, his to love, an already felt vehemence. He or any angel, thought to deny in the hiss of connections.
3) Foraging within the weather
The purple blood afterwards, open proof to exist. A thousand screams hobbled to a parable, showing the short teeth that drove the nose itself, and repeat as an earthquake trick infinitely before the strand. There, life as a stopped collision, neither satisfied in ornaments or instincts, just short punctures through a better law, punctures through time and a borrowed collection of the sickened.