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The Other

For it is too me.

streets No!
screams,
save this last breath when the skin
to detonate. We

sold
unknowingly
to our condition.

We have fallen to the strange look, without knowing that we own

we delivered
we consumed.

Let me touch my hand,
allows this skin that covers me
covers you.
I share as an object given to
skin needed.

There is now no place in you that my eyes
have not touched.
No stranger to you taste my taste, my touch
.

And if someday you want to run
looking for other skins,
not silent,
scream, yell, too,
say gently, hearing,
I too have been sex.

For it is too pretentious.

Have you seen, and after sex
await in silence?
I think, after you've walked for prudence
time.

not let me love you more than
by moment, by night segments.
not know from whom you live, more than a name
improper generated simulation.

waited in silence to me no names,
to not look at me, they do not want me,
not to touch me, not to try
esparcirte me more than an instant.

night Cause I'm lost,
which
just the memory of the bad dream, bad dream that your side
that waits in silence.

However, I will not wait forever, because as a nightmare
when
Flags back in my bed,
be there, waiting in silence, but this time
,
to get back into your flesh. For

that is too much sex.

When the consciousness
all will emancipate itself
can feel the real pain.
appease the unquenchable thirst. When the skin

thought escapes the world,
when the vibration generated by two bodies
joins space
when under
meat strips in speed pace, when my walls
give me your sex
and in your warm beds to excite violence
ah! You have to drink the nectar of your life.

And as the animals are delivered to the voracity

instinct,
we can also enter the domains of time, suspended time
on sweats Del others.

For it is too still.

Have you seen the color of dreams?
All in gray!
A little red
leaves you like that unwanted part, as that spot
born in the veins.

moving objects are hidden from sleep
pupils,
not want to give the dark color
dream alive when you lie.

However, whoever you are,
strange dreamer, take me now or leave
free
no time to warn the errant
insomnia.

all in gray, gray
I,
and ask you again
Have you seen the color of dreams?

For yours is too.

I saw and I could not touch.
Traces intact even in my eyes closed to imagine
contact.

I ask:
What good are
hands me if I can not touch? What
serve me
eyes to see if I know I can not touch?

Wait,
Over time
were mine but I was foreign.

I met you perfect, but slowly I did
human