Seasons: Fear of morality

Come, come in my heart,

the door is open.
Come, cum in my heart,
accept DISORDER.

It’s a eulogical chaos towards man,
until the illogical will displace reality.
There is little, maybe nothing to understand,
It’s a process of giving birth, driven by morality.

We are stoned... ... ... immaculate.

And for us to remember it,
we dive through the night.
Our fear has conquered us
and three years have gone.

The leaves are red.
I don’t understand. It could be. I sweat.
What have we done?
What answers do we have?

“Hi... do you know who I am?”
Come, come in my heart,
the door is open.
“Hi... do you know why I am?”
Come, cum in my heart,
accept DISORDER.
“Is this why/o I am?”
Cum.