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Nothing closer than this precipice of weeds and brambles and dead bodies. Nothing could be farther
this I have more about the ash of this
consumed cigar in the ashtray by foul the environment.
worth Do not mourn, not even worth
implore, not even worth
suffer
not care that what you are suffering, perhaps I can not even tell, or know
its weight, or how measured. ..
But, ultimately costing you life almost. And not worth
finished ina pills ..
think it is worth not interact with people,
so you probably have a disorder of integration,
but that's not important.
the end that one day you're still alive even think or have thought
that day in an affair with death, but you finished thinking
would be a terrible, disastrous.
you finished thinking or have done an exercise that served to tell you:
Not today, today I'm going to go. Although
hurt his eye sockets.
Even at night you're dying of fear in the bed.
have nightmares and demons as if they were always coming to get you in the dark ..
Even if you think your life sucks and want to change and do not know how.

always end up weighing even the din of the street when you wake up,
light from the street by morning, or song, to grab life.

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I still alone, terribly alone and hopeless. Stale as those candy that sometimes appear with or without a fortune in his pocket announcing anise taste ... and last cause almost obsolete and some arcades ..
therefore not deprive me of "Doritos" drink coca-cola with sugar and that morning as I'm going to make attacks "stealth" to bar Thomas, serving the best patatas bravas in this global world, sorry I repeat myself a lot, is wild garlic from today, said

if you're not handsome and you're super-competent delgao you away and make you, and you fall into a thousand and negative stereotypes,

I'm still alone, terribly alone and desauciado.

but ... what can I do if I am growing a belly worthy of Ignatius
Reilly.

Finally I have a beautiful smile,
four watermarks to make the clown of the psimpsons,
whose name, I prefer to forget,
and walks with the dog,
clear that the dog ..
bitch, do not miss.

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phone rings.
I was taking a nap.
the news. Precipitated
.

imagine your skin. You grin, which will be the temperature of your body? Would

together when you decided to leave, without warning? Where

you go? There are only

, photographs. And from now on, memories that fade in my mind. Last ludo

we play at home.
with cupcakes and coffee. Your smile lit

Your laughter ... ... .. Your voice brave

your presence .. From now
:
Your absence.

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not find another way to bite wound.
cold today. It rained and

city breathed from the ground is only a patina of scabs
and water.
You can not recognize you in any tearful mirror of any car parked in the neighborhood
death where you will find your bags of cocaine.
Needed to forget, to make today, rainy days, day pain, day bite wound ... Tonight

your mouth is dry. Tonight
insomnia, your face pale pills to limits mortuary. Paras
a taxi and say,
there, there, where clearing
limbo, where the error can be costly. Where
forget easily. Where
taste is bitter.
Where the tree is white
and defeat does not come overnight,
night, is to bite wound
/ to bite wound /
and die a little /
at every step /

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In the short passage of 65 seconds, I've thought of you
I could not delete any longer, nor hide from my mind,
nor your presence.

I return to you.
be back as I return to the past.
I return to outline a shy smile as I remember,
And in the short step of 120 seconds back to blur your image,
right thing, trying not to think of you.
to uproot any attempt on my mind, ill and hungry, yours.

I see through your eyes.
feel through your touch, thin and white,
and for now, because I do not know Love longer,
you think,
you think, forget
here.

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My mind becomes entangled in a whirlwind while
feel bruised my forehead with your words.

Today, like yesterday, I am a junkie for your pupils. I
junkie in your skin,
of your voice, your whole being ... I
mercenary fighting
and you must give life
,


But what if I'm dead?
am a rag doll, sad and frayed

who knows the game ...

Saliva down my throat tastes like blood,
the taste of defeat, which expired
,
has to leave,

must recognize and assume
the surf of the sea,
is now more dangerous than ever ...