"Who's there, my God, who's there?" Lubomír Tomik Ernest Hemingway knocked out a phone booth, it was only afternoon, guy in an old STB secret police coat with a leather bag and an injured spine entered a roundabout, the cars stopped indecisively and the drivers didn't know what to do, the guy in the orange overalls was walking on the railway embankment, for a moment he even seemed to be able to control the tracks and sleepers but then he looked at the track in front of him he stared until his eyeballs fell out and on the gleaming tracks they rolled toward the unknown, head to all the tattoo ink, Ernest Hemingway knocked out a phone booth, the handset fell to the ground, coins spilled, on the other side of the line was Ema Destin and she cried : ,, Who is there, O God, O God, who is there? "
The sullen man. Lubomír Tomik Before he lay down under the sign No. 😯 called some Reynolds the soul was winking and was almost on the edge before he lay down under the sign No. 😯
And here it is, he thought. Lubomír Tomik And here it is he thought, it was like a whiplash, creaking skin, blinding light, the bow passes over the remnants of the silhouettes of the pig casings Her hips curl, she tasted all that, young heart, young with a gnaw of darkness. And here it is he thought, it's here and he felt her teeth pierce his flesh.
Dnes speciálně pro Tebe, ať údery boxovací rukavice , které zazní, úplně napadrť rozbijí Tvou nemoc.
Completely attack. Lubomír Tomik under the blows of hands tearing me to pieces stomachs broken gushing vermilion in the palms of the wreckage of the eyes completely attack.
Boiler full of necks. Lubomír Tomik the boiler full of throats overflows and the characters as from Durer's woodcut, they disappear and appear above the surface of the saddled goulash of blood, wooden spoon disappears somewhere in the clouds feet appear the image is suddenly colored, is red, smudges of green, black to brown full of movement and lamentation: Halving a bull in a poppy field.