The brain as a maze of neurons eventually succumb to the hidden power of hormones . A dark nature that does not provide clarity. Rebel in my submission. Hardening insecure and hysterical passions.
I do not like the situation imposed on me. And December is the imposition of excellence. I have to do to friends, I have to tell you how I am, I have to smile, I have to be nice, I have to give and packing, I have to wrap myself, I have to share, I have to ... I have to ... I have to ... What if within myself I have nothing?
A heart that feels like old stuffed, full of mites, allergies, past tears, the spit dried yesterday. December is imposed on me with their customs, their gatherings, their toast their gold and silver, the synthetic snow, its pathetic carols, his demons burned. Lynched my paradise and the sky turns red. Red my feelings, my hatred.
And then count the damage the years. hate to look back to find I'm a commonplace of mistakes, bad decisions, thoughts unjust, egos, isms.
metófora Life as reflected in the water of the toilet and shit dancing in circles, spinning live, perhaps, the most beautiful lake in the world.
Oblivion with Windows 97. A false jukebox in my favorite bar. And a heart arrhythmia that is not implied.
Somewhere in this world, there is a fresh breeze to my old soul. A book to be written.
O an island which to begin.
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