Welcome to your home!

You are back in the Amor Camps

You will soon feel loved again, pampered, but as usual, you will not know what to do with it, what to do with it and damn it, what to do with it and give it away, while you are still alive.

Intelligence is a universal crop and the weed is religious

Feelings are like urges to shit or to come. They grow, they go out and then subside before coming back

The same old story

But I didn't understand you

Careful, here I kill with the thought

Great viewfinder, I am and cannot and will not spare you

It's good for the victims to be victims, isn't it?

You would have to kill first, wouldn't you?

Hey, I can hear the train whistle, can't you?

Please, give me the sloppy, the nothing, the poorly done. Stop polluting me with works that want to "tell me" and move me.

Always the infantile insult will follow the lyrical enthusiasm of love blinded by the reflection of the self.

Any belief is ridiculous; you are there to be reassured

I would like to have a sister to sleep with at all hours

I'm looking for a new name for a feeling that is not love, flanked by its big A, a perverse and beta manipulator

Deport Love, deport Love,

Ah the music! Ah the love of staves!

Hey, remember? Just because we're against the same thing doesn't mean we're together, right?

You can't love your neighbour's navel

Peace between individuals comes at the price of genocide of the ideals of love

Can you make art? No, you can't make art; only crooks make art

Whores have their secrets, well kept. Only whores know everything about the world. Wisdom is not the popes of resilience; it is the whores because they sell nothing but a souvenir; no book

I like whores

You're annoying us with your love that you can't handle. And Sophie's choice, do you know it?

In my world there is no noise and I can hear everything very well

Severe punishment and its uncompromising application will have to be meted out to anyone who makes the air sound so corrupt with clichés and clichés

Punishment for peddling bullshit; humiliation or death, you choose

The random connections of my insane brain are worth your coherent thought

Tell me, old clown, which bench do you sleep on?

Try opening your mouth a little, you old crocodile

You know, I don't care about the way the doors open anyway

Do you understand striped cluster?

This is a minefield street,

Death to the cows,

You see indelible mental,

Take a look at your holiday ideas

Life is not a right

Loving is not a duty

Existence is childish

And yet there are hearts that believe they are beating

Slam fatigue

I'd like to do a slam for all those who work on four legs

But who is not infamous

I would like to clean up the displays full of goodwill

Cleaning and te nique, it is necessary to make good use of the techniques

For me, it will be acid genocide applied to your moods and the mediocrity of morals

I'm looking for a little humanity with a divining rod

Shoah will be better tomorrow

But watch out, bitch

Habeas foreskin!

Girls who have their children circumcised should be circumcised in return

The first profession of man is to become intelligent

The second is to tame death, which must be the same thing

Note to benet: There is no order to these proposals

My brain fell to the ground

My brain is Tibet

It has been exiled from my head,

chased by Chinese speakers

All those he does not understand

I picked it up anyway...

in case

Sex happens but frustration is impossible to say

There are long connections between my sex and the horrors of the world
Between my hatred, which I love as much as the objects I hate, and the desire to love, rape and annihilate

To come as a man is not to surprise someone else's hole

To come as a man is to be caught in the act, as a female, as a slut, as a martyr

All sacred unions isolate me

No doubt about their good feelings

I don't know what is good. I don't know what's beautiful. I don't do this to be funny, or good, or beautiful.

By the way, I'm masturbating with both hands so I don't have to squeeze one of yours.

And I can understand the hatred of humans.

Perhaps it will save us tomorrow.

PS. We really can't stand the release of a Peau d'Âne DVD every Christmas with new bonuses...

Les camps de l'Amor © David Noir - All rights reserved