wind based. or angry. it depends .. . like liked to end my grandfather when it was beginning to tire. I feel like traveling, to move against the waves, my house like a ship upset, is imperceptibly turned, arched in a futile effort. I turn off the light too slick and sterile lamp and sit in the balcony, the wind and barefoot for better taste the freshness of the night beneficent. I like the dark silence, dance a little lonely moon shy, singing frogs amount of life spring. capsized yet my movie night, I tell the darkness that my eyes have seen while my toes clinging to the railing. I let myself go, rambling to myself, lose my logic. my memory is playing with my inspiration, stalking appearance, slips into the source of sweet, like a dream. I think out of the funeral exotic set of a film which I know nothing, I see behind my tearful eyes closed these characters that make me laugh, but I'm no stranger to the event, it looks like the funeral my patience, packed at the bottom of a box, family and friends to hit the shots pink tinted. All this is so cliche! to the general transformation in fresco of this circus, everyone waving above her head a bubble BD entered into a peal of laughter. all look at me, eyes and fingers seem sharp and curse me. they do shape a world where boys will next shirtless and drinking too much, I'm blind protects their mockery as their temptations. ink that form of words fascinates me Is she flows from my fingers themselves in a creative amusingly narcissistic? cold on my legs bring me to my knees to my chest as much as open his eyes, he is three twenty-eight a Wednesday fresh.
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