Library october

Tell me how I am to read these long words. Words words.
Can you really see beauty or is it some sophisticatedly precision constructed form of sarcasm from the start.
Words, that´s not much to ask. And this paper you´d sooner see in the rubbish.
I saw you at the lit up ambush point. Promise me something.
While picking a dish you fell out of there as the place was robbed by patriots.
The place was robbed by your favourite gunwelding abandoned nobodies.
And you wonder why as you continue as if nothing happened.
Yes, seven flavours of "life goes on." But do you?
Some colourful house of pranks wont wake you.
Colour me with the north they snapped my wit.
Roaring back with a swedish kiss, ice walls are built from her departure.
Frozen mirrors don´t show your reflection.
Better touch the equator, if you want my affection,
Of your sorcerer... Acting really crazy teasing innocent creativity, quit unless evil envy´s necessary.
Cold was the 3rd garden. Cold is the corner I´ll deliver. It´s ghost more pale than the colour of your killer instinct.
The seven flavours of "life goes on", paint me with colours unknown to me, paint me falsely.
My silence wakes the dead, echos where your footsteps would never tread.
A lost spell, you´ll find me in october´s library, where words shatter reality.