By Caio Fernandes
twisting tastes that live into clear sweetiness as a dancer on the air of the night.
i watch: dance taste , dance my dear... dance only for me.
channels of under-tastes are opening as i was digging a rock, but nothing is hard.
easy.
soft
and then i remember that woman that had tatoos of 4 tiny berrys on the place of the eyebrows.
i could lick that too.
i think this under-tastes are fruits of my searchs into the air... or i couldn't explaing where it came fron.
well... i can't anyway.
