I use spirits for the fresh roses
It took nine months to evaporate death
What does the dark red in my fingers mean?
The romantic poisoning of the tip of the tongue is not in a hurry
In the witch’s cup
Void can also collapse
You never sent me a bunch of flowers
Also see no blood
God gave the ladder to love
But I prefer Satan’s purgatory
Ashes, bursting in Mars, I want you to glance
Is a water-scarce land
Silent healing of giant slits
Fantasy rose garden eaten by loess
Epitaph of the Sleepy Beast
Thorns piled into a holy place
There is wine in the desert!
Did not see the dripping?
The dark red lullaby of evil spirits is permeable
Sailors turn to holy city
What a pious brain in the town!
Numb the blood-making machine
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