I will protect you from this awful place

I know you so well that it’s fiction, got to get out of our head
My face is a dead link you won’t find me there
My eyes dead link
Absentee ballet zero for conduct all we used to be made out of glass
Glass and blood glass and blood not for…
For Tristeza… not for Tristeza
Trsiteza casting spells in your dead name is elastic
Her striking temperature according use to object
Extract the masculine germ from remote memory
Now that all my thoughts are phantom pains
Pains pains
I was a mad idea traced in thе sand
I was a mad idea traced in the sand whеre misery is deify-able
I will protect you from this awful place
A horror poem unfolds and our love absorbs it