cost The words in these days of financial crisis,
distract The coins,
as I lose my vacuum, in hoping that the door creak and show up with that restless,
soon as I get lost in thought, without finding shit.
some time ago I remember going into the woods at night looking crescent and the branches, basting one by one, in that gentle song was all that looked. And now shit.
to remember as I penetrated into the dark world of letters, the fireflies would tell me a story that left me lost in an endless open-ended. Crickets foam led me to love poetry closed insatiable and insane. Miles branches, many shrubs, such fragrance that woke her nose buried at the foot of a tree. Until one day in mid-afternoon I found myself in this desert shit and a fear of shit.
In the desert ...
could say that the walls were huge clouds of grass and sap the air of the sea. But in reality or lying around smelled like shit.
could say maybe it was a desert island or a city infernal
but the truth is that we are not balancing, no dreams, no reality.
Wemore death.
So we should sink.
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