I have the suspicion that to be truly free it is necessary to see your father die and kill your mother. Or was it the other way around? A section of my mind remains in the dark. My hands are sweating, my throbbing is accelerating, a chill runs through my body. I feel the anguish, the temptation and t
he desire of the one who has to commit a crime. Or has it happened? I can not take my eyes off. Everything is affectively disconcerting, amorphous, strange. I witness the growth of madness in children. I keep your sentences. He possesses me a savagery. Now everything is a red splendor. I go through a new trance in my paranoid sleep psychosis, am I bewitched or am I the witch? My feet are burning.
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