Author Topic: Wip  (Read 21576 times)

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Offline FireCrack

  • 210
  • meh...
Sorry i cant type to save my life :(
actualy, mabye not.
"When ink and pen in hands of men Inscribe your form, bipedal P They draw an altar on which God has slaughtered all stability, no eyes could ever soak in all the places you anoint, and yet to see you all at once we only need the point. Flirting with infinity, your geometric progeny that fit inside you oh so tight with triangles that feel so right."
3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944 59230781640628620899862803482534211706...
"Your ever-constant homily says flaw is discipline, the patron saint of imperfection frees us from our sin. And if our transcendental lift shall find a final floor, then Man will know the death of God where wonder was before."