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of nowhere Why so similar?

is equal to you, but a woman. The hungry look, his head full of birds, the course undefined.

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But what fucking year. Today is 4

could not wait to arrive on December 31 blessed: D
However, I can not say I have only complaints regarding happily highlight 2007. Always good things are rescued in bad, and those good things are often best, because they are saving you have only bad memories of a period. That is, are the positive motivation that encourages you to continue living in a real pile of shit widespread ...
I have met many people during this year. Rather nice people, people, bull, person-boomerang and people-persons. Transparent people and people somewhat opaque, and the mirror a bit muddy People also invisible, which in 2006 would never have thought it would disappear.
During this year, I've also learned a lot. I learned to listen. To find motives even where none exist. To defend itself.
But what most certainly have done, has been learning to compromise. I found that everything is more enjoyable.
Please show me.
way, do not know if I get inside of people-people or invent a new type of person that best fits you. Or maybe you're not a person may be speaking idiotic and does not fit all. Yes, I like you anymore.

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And every time go faster. Escape from my hands, tangle on the road. But when I look back, I know I have not missed any detail.

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RETURN.

S / TEMuntañola.

tapabas mouth when you talk

like you're smoking,

as if you hide your teeth,

as a predator spotless

repentant

and the limit of your hand

allowed to see the limit of your mouth

coming of death.

Exile crossed your soul up and down,

billed you skin

hope, forgetting

locked himself in the place you sleep

where grows the sand and the bitter sea.

I looked inward

to see the folds,

-what-you said no,

with the meekness of one who loves you well

and fears nothing you, or imposed.

And the night fell in the street

wanted to take you upstairs,

vines down

sunflowers without light

place beyond my sight.

An appropriate word, a gesture,

moisture from the rain, quick goodbye,

the essence

that

again did not get to your soul.

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FOR AIR.

Excerpt ST. E. Muntañola

widens light in the sky.

I turn words in favor of air.

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LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES.

The cold goes beyond our gaze.

not speak of himself. Arrives. Defines the ground.

Cold is a painting of Goya

which will never retreat,

the wind always blow

and stones may even shelter.

is a look near death.

is like not having your body,

is shattering.

this neglect is in the heart,

falling afternoon alone, without gaps,

and no words or wit, or even storm.

The cold is not loving. Go to your eyes and do not find them.

just has color. No taste.

Attaches to members, the soul, God's crust.

The man who knows the cold trying to remove their glasses.

The woman, barefoot, bare on the damp ground

when the cold is already inside. Not seen.

And near death, he looks cold.

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reach the sea.

exist without light in another body? What
queda dentro del olvido?

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molds.

El tapial blanco
reverberando azul de la estación de Santa Eugenia.
La hierba sobre el tapial,
alta, verdinegra.
El alma opaca,
en tránsito, como el aire sobre el tapial
y el cielo en medio de la nada,
abriéndose paso.

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DISTANCE. FRAGILITY

Ahora, de lejos, entiendo tus palabras
- aquellos silencios vagos, poderosos -.
Es claro y tibio este invierno,
hermosa soledad para embriagarse,
mágica tierra de nadie que creeremos hacer a nuestro modo.

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.

Sé que el invierno está aquí
behind this door. JOSÉ HIERRO


afternoon brings me
defeat and there is a distant voice facing
mine tangled in the fight
cold and distant memory.

There are days when we should leave us.
There are days too fragile, they break us.

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OBLIVION.

blackbirds sing on the new elms.
Madrid, dust and light.
always the same gray look up.

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OF LOVE AND MEMORY.


The memory of my body on your body is the sea, also the skin
is salt and coral,
the mouths of fans rush out and return the heart

eroded by the kisses that have not been.

Through the eyes of old arena,
near the sea, I held your breath, no light
coast, glorious cliffs to get rid
;

-all in love is some sea-

how otherwise explain his return
his leg, his waves,
strange spells, his misfortune. Amarte

was embarking on a dream of algae would feed me
perfect shells,
had your life, you were my death,
also had something deep;
eventually obscured by evergreen maze
and it hurt the heart of love and helplessness. Amarte

was looking for a continent to a continent
, discover a shipwreck teñirnos
blue and green the soul,
build an ocean to our knots.

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DEPARTURE.

(...) fáltame
the fire of hope, with
used to walk on the dark region of your forgetfulness.

GARCILASO


This statue is too cold too white

too dead.


But I see even from the cold and pallor
death.

When I leave here I'll even
a look of plaster.

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Harder, faster, forever after.

my heart beats escaped my throat and no power left in peace to my senses.

I stood on the brink, and the two seconds he was back on land.

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the north, south parallel

I put one foot on the sidewalk waiting for something to change, but nothing happened. Typical.
I started walking faster and faster, as if that way would leave behind the confusion they really did nothing to cling to my leg like a tick. The drops falling from the sky mixed with that slipped from my eyes and with the storm that stirred within me. I was afraid of drowning, but continued without stopping. I stopped to buy chocolate and cigarettes to fill a bit of trash comforting. And how deluded I was to leave the store to the street with the same vain hope that something will change. Nothing can control my feelings or my acting when I was blind, just stumble over and over again, without exception.
When was it started to crumble? kept repeating that question, millions of times in my head, still moving inertially. When was that removed the first brick, I did not realize?.
perception I had failed, and was the first time I had. It was also the first time that I failed the indifference, poise, inconstancy and sensitivity that stupid, stubborn to the unbearable. Why? if I had done so well. I had turned the scheme at 180 degrees, and now, the wind pushing the body heavy with moisture, the internal compass was broken to pieces.

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your mind may start their own bad memories hands stuck together, and use the strength of feeling anxiety right now to destroy, to kill completely. It could turn the world into a second, stand on the Sun and mourn until dry inside, run to break up, cry, last, deliver thousands of moments. But he prefers to sit there to rot in the shade for a while with his shell, and watch life pass before your eyes.

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moron. Jeliza Rose

I want to, I want to Be someone else or I'll explode, floating upon this surface for the birds, the birds, the birds. You want me? Fucking, well come and find me. I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches. And nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. You want me? Well, come on and break the door down. You want me? Fucking come on and break the door down. I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'M READY.

Well, that's the thing.

What beautiful wings, and mine were much larger and the bang was like shit. I wonder why.

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Sometimes I love to be like you.