She is shortage in the distance and tomorrow is only a day that comes after yesterday
today is the name she gives to oblivion.
as her dream is to fall.
She has a plaintive soul and a gun jammed, and contractures hurt your navel, and the last gasps of life they cut the guts when he loves.
Her name is Harrison's guitar on a song by the Rolling Stones,
I call by name that has caused so much hardship and lack of a bad end, is a chart without premonitions.
His name is lonely when you walk by Perez and watch the passers-by running between cars, his name is sleepy at 10 am, and I am called to his den to show me the stars dying to breathe in it His name is summer in the incessant shaking of the winds in April.
Fall is the mourning of the chords of a Chopin nocturne,
uncertainty is the name given to the targets. and walk on streets do not lead anywhere, ways to share a single air.
Cold is a headband that hangs from his neck, his chest burning and keeps her company, she is
smile that goes from song to song, pack in pack,
is the smoke and steam, moist heat the trees that night scream their names. Your Bible
called Maleficarum, the sacrilege told to pray, my desperate hopes
tells patience, smoking
called lunch.
air its absence is called land, living space
was ever called.
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