The sky may be wrong when the blue vein throbs, seated. And this incredible discovery: the sketching background, the burst that points time out. Of all the interpretations, the shooting one is enraged as hell, splitting our kissing heads open. Accustomed to air, your limbs are shaking violently. Takes my events away. How the hands drape and devour the hearts. What shall be remembered of the words look after in look at me inside?