benefit most from

the devil is sad behind his mask of laughter

he looks to you from behind bills bent in the middle

like the ocean of fear that foregoes a catastrophe;

i once did know that earth has limits and now have blinded all sides

all streams of conscience broken down to heratic misleading

gestures caught on canvas, be it even cloth to dress us in colours

that remind visitors of our decay. it bares no sign of animal touch

and yet the stench prevails, the torride mountains of exctasy

prevailed in dust, just so that the eyes can\'t take any movement; or light.

from behind the make-up silver platter the devil looks upon beauty and makes it his

to own like a bent note. no riddicule is enough for you to fall even more

and no memories sufficient to make the past become present and the clouds\' purple grey

witness remorse in a strange and new form, one that acts like a drill onto rock hard grief.