Texts

The golden ice cream

Sound has a heraldic or prophetic function and this is not uncanny, not at all. How I wish the golden ice cream melts on the pyrotechnic eruptions of my heart after midnight. How I wish to block my Purkinje neurons. Pellucida zona is the sweetest trap ever, far beyond all theories and thoughts…
Flaming Clouds

Cursed prayer. This is a digital nostalgia, a rhythmic fall. Today, I ate the chaos. A stubborn cigarette in between sleeping is the triumph of defeated. Electrocuted star splinters making time subservient. There is nothing to remember, there is something to respect.
Magmatism

I really don’t know what is yellow. The aesthetics of silence are omnipotent. Sound is movement, it is time. My eyes are the logarithm of abyss. Being real and volcanic is socially forbidden. The fundamental question is: ‘Blind or deaf’?
Pandemonium Rural

Drunken robots, bleeding diamonds, gummy pearls, conservative people and ordinary or irritating confessions… Do you love you? Most of hearts around us have 2×16 inputs and no outputs. Lift up yourself to insanity. Its the only shield remaining.
Intoxicated rainbows

Spring is the summer with its underwear and the universe is more like music than matter. Pink bears roaring and KGB’s Psychotronics proved that silence could be a very powerful tool. The bpm of absolute silence is infinity and people are still friends.
A camel in Helsinki

Hugs are truesome. The winter silence in a forest. I love you means that I remember you from another world more beautiful. OK? Craniums in flames are essential to realize a forehead kissing riot. Mrs psychology likes the piano without the keys.