İLKİN BESTE ÇIRAK

THE MOTH

at least a thousand and perhaps the... only one - a one only. I eat my comebacks - when my hunger rhymes with my belly. Within this sadness in this loudness; reunited power of my mechatronic senses, They deserve shelves full of silver medals -and at least a ceremony. I am a non-smoking waiting lounge - and you were in for so long, does that interest you? Deed the chair is still free, besides this waiting costs too dearly But dive in- my boulevards - my cul-de-sacs hidden; a vital minor like how does the world go round? big business- mad work rounding earthy corners with sandpapers out of atmospheric gale forces, wind frequencies, severity- violence, how many millions- of human toilets- on the same gravitation channel hanging- so to speak, tones of Scheisse just once, imagine... hand in hand, flush it out we-make -it turns- around, what? Besides that- I mainly overland and see Sometimes it is too hard -in dreams to just dream an uninterrupted form to be. Yes, that’s an end. I am my only copy-paste.