Like a dog in the years, my will gradually rotted away in the poison called decadence, only to evaporate a little while crying on the table. That stubborn touch as red as rouge represents our hot and ridiculous life. What a burning and passionate life? What a joke. Lie down, pretend to be a dog, and become a dog. His blue eyes, as deep as a wolf's gnaw, were like the color of a dead corpse, swirling towards the sky, staring into the sky, eyes falling. This is how we die.
