I am in that happiness that is not felt in the stomach but is caught in the ribs and held prisoner of the tortures of the mind.
And my lips are stretched by the pressure with my talk that feels like a story that is broken.
Then I feel in that ecstasy where the emptiness of the building is tempting and the knives under the rain make beautiful noises.
It is happiness that is understood as a dark joke and we have no common sense of solving the stomach pain riddle.
T.A.
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