1
The voices of the night
are stars lying in tidal
language
asleep on a kiss.
Long day dream ...
The steps are ways
the edge of the fallen body,
rainy corners
warm eyes.
So much blood
makes me dream and feel expands to you
shadows of gods
dead in your absence.
Trying to wake
the young man who dwells in me,
not know where he has been
for many years.
For many years
has slept without dreaming
a way
thanks for dreaming.
Head of asphalt
and body of paper,
faceless
without blood.
Hunting dogs after
the truth of men
skin
barking and crying looks white.
Believe me, no lie,
in truth, I'm just a man,
acting and walking and is desperate
to feel the rain soak my feet.
My mind is a desert
wearing my memories
fused with tears.
I created a sun
that only we can feel,
and moon kiss on the forehead.
damned lie Rivers
for thinking that death was her friend.
to roam Fallen, fallen for thinking.
My body is a torrent
that gently removes
as a silent night,
and created a light
that allows me to shine in
distance
day when I opaque.
incurable Rivers
travel the winding valleys
fallen by seeking, dropped by to sing.
And the children dance
following your steps,
fallen from running,
fallen to fall.
Forgot your grievances
as my devotion is true,
one night were to take my blood.
I have called false
not know my marks
built on lies.
Once thought I
was a pale man,
but without knowing my skin
was black.
A man can not
dream of death,
all mirrors reflect
years passing without paying.
You thought I
was a silent wind,
my skin is boiling alcohol
consume the wind,
once thought I was
wrong way, but
missed it to compare myself with Jesus.
2
The cold does not freeze at night without losing
essentially hidden
dark clouds of rain.
Without sky,
a place to dream,
away from all
heaven is a
pain compared with only
rain that nobody can feel.
Dogs barking at comets, volcanoes
unhealthy ice cream and flowers,
we have life in his hand,
without sky to fall, beside roads
not trafficked.
Animals on the prowl,
the running man
homeless in the woods, yellow
skies covering his face, and
does not provide the color
of his forehead.
Pain is a
child who is afraid of losing
the affection they have given.
A Rose de hielo,
una ofensa sin perdón.
El tiempo no se regala
en vitrinas, exhibido como
un obsequio.
Sin embargo,
te puedo regalar mi voluntad.
Siempre he querido caminar de tu mano,
pero olvidaste donde nací
y no has podido encontrarme.
Los días de lluvia me han swallowed,
and I have fallen among the rocks,
this blue is not water,
is a butterfly lap
distressed.
This day is colder than yesterday,
but no matter,
have forgiven the rain.
Did you have fun singing the chorus
of insane flying the rainbow?
were my friend, now is not your name, but
no matter, the names do not say anything.
spend nights singing
did not matter that I'm dumb?
3
I was born in a womb
withered, every touch of the skin
is an insult
also breathed acid,
and every day I was in a grave without flowers.
This hole is a sob,
that every day reminds me
me,
without knowing myself, I've become a monster
who can not recognize the truth of illusion.
A dream
a fear of the soul
shelter
a calm day.
I tried to fly,
but the angels have died.
This omen is an empty stone
sun that feeds
and tuberose blossoms,
recreating heaven languages \u200b\u200b
and affections of flies in mouths.
Under the floor, I have
fear
uncontrolled
unable to sing
I've been born to die.
This gift is not for me, falls
have swallowed dust and
sleepless nights,
unable to give me a hug myself.
fingerless hands
white eyes,
moon way
about sleep.
Life
borrowed
never asked,
way of heaven.
I cried
all
the faults of others.
4
I consumed this eternal sigh
without sleep,
am a pillar stranded on the shores
where no one above.
I laid my hand
to forget that no one lives,
I can not mourn
but I can laugh.
All words
are hungry wolves,
all hands are
unread books.
I was lucky to live-I,
if I did not say anything,
is because I am still alive.
Music
travels sound of the night,
rush in steps.
'm a storm
flying ... flying ...
5
And all the mysteries are
fugases
and all the laughs
are songs
of children ever
were afraid to grow,
of fearful infants
to lose.
The eyes are
bubbles of soap,
hide houses
dreams unrealized,
charms of childhood
who leave
sniffing,
evaporated over time.
And all the things we thought
do
were made
cut with axes,
the edge of the paper
writes not
skin or eyes closed.
We have grown
and only we
men who failed to laugh,
are not children,
babies cry,
not know to be men
malformed by shadows,
unfair events.
I am a child,
winter
a sob
a breath.
I grew up.
6
has lost consciousness
seeking sanity
first term is the I
it expands.
A ghost is married
with his fear of frightening,
a weary
effort to meet a schedule.
The dead pray to the living
but we forget that we die,
and perhaps also
pray.
A secret is a stone
hidden at the bottom of the sea,
is hidden fish
not want to see.
Look, we
fish and swim in aquariums
frequented by walls.
salt Fireflies
jumping chasms
to shine
in different seas.
Lemon yellow,
strong hands that open
and moan, raindrops
in the eyes do not cry.
I am old.
7
Do you know me?
call me quiet.
used to be a young gay
but time will know,
walk for us.
0 comments:
Post a Comment