new

curving the fingers, toes a toll of a million blueprints.
me, before creation. a dusty hollow piece of mirror; the exact image of desire, content, betrayal.
the more i see, less i understand the thousand questions that burn my head. Fenicios? Arqueologo? Mago? Dios.

Becoming a pattern completed by the common thoughts of the human sphere. The upcoming relationship between what im made of, and who they want me to me. It's the original sin we all need to look past and bury. No need to twirl & screem.

New World, Old Mistakes. God have mercy.