For an hors d'oeuvre, of my adulterous partner, an eggplant in autumn I'll eat.
Where my mother and father are there, looking for to be at a loss, I find a guillotined head on public display. Or, Where my mother and father are there, looking for to be at a loss, punished a guillotined head on public display, I am.
Be injured in this summer, finish to slurp the pus by the crimson lips.
Like algae, inviting by her arms, of Ophelia.
When offering of flowers fall, vermilion on the toenails, a dreaming a secchin from the novel "Yapou, betail humain" dreams of.