the rest of my days I spend wandering, wondering what, anyway, was that sticky infusion, that rank flavor of blood, that poetry by which I lived?


Body Rags (1968). The Bear


The rest of my days I spend wandering, wondering what, anyway, was that sticky infusion, that rank flavor of blood, that poetry by which I lived?

The rest of my days I spend wandering, wondering what, anyway, was that sticky infusion, that rank flavor of blood, that poetry by which I lived?

The rest of my days I spend wandering, wondering what, anyway, was that sticky infusion, that rank flavor of blood, that poetry by which I lived?

The rest of my days I spend wandering, wondering what, anyway, was that sticky infusion, that rank flavor of blood, that poetry by which I lived?