goutsoullac: DRACVLA IN EVROPA by Constantin von Hoffmeister blood-suckingly dry these past and cruel april days have been that filthy forgery stems from stem-cell research and why not bother to dwell on one's own thoughts? i see the clear-blue sky enveloping itself around a forest full of fig trees the water mirrors gray and dull the scope of things to come the discus-throwing race sheds tears and wails a discordant litany lamenting the crucifixion of a nordic savior lost inside the cold gaze of the desert demon the lion locked in the wardrobe can roar but not eat a gazelle the herrenrasse can proclaim weltschmerz and turn terrorist but never remove the noses on the walls will you not come to the party with me, my dear? dr. goebbels succinctly stated: "christ: the principle of love." but above hovers nothing but dust in a fearful and trembling hand with a sweet but musky aftershave he treks through a muddy berlin chiseled from memory hertha holk wails in vain he ain't coming back suffering a dry spell typing words in the shape of a flaming sword negro armies on the rhine intellectually stimulating the women black on blonde rise from your coffin, golden-locked savior! brandish the rod! insert yourself into the bloody hole of doom! the orifice widened with pleasure and retraction see the new party torchbearer's blushed expression lighting the path ahead with devouring flames of discontent the true brothers' philosophy of blood and destruction explains itself in terms of the rational phoenix rising from the multi-layered rubble a monolithic totality desired and executed along with singularity followed by order

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