I would like to understand what others understand as to why I understand without being my opponents, tormentors of my way of looking at life in a circle, in a movement of a strange table where I am the scepter and only the center with no opposite sides of that table.
It is very difficult for me to feel cockroaches that fly over my body, figures that mate in my body, awake shading that comes in and tell me nothing, and the melenas that from far away do not even realize what I pass purge because they all look and are flying to me. in search of their nests. They sleep are the ones who sleep peacefully in the sleep of which I live in the agony of not subduing myself, but feeling something that deflects in my heart the silent scream of the metaphoric cliffs that no one can hear, see, feel or have the pleasure of feeling. . Because they would actually be crazy! And in that blinding pleasure in my tenuous soul in which makes me languid in my silence in a passive voice, I scream! And in the eternal agony of awakening, I am surprised by the sleepless night that my senses pray in a lazy space of being alone and accompanied by the band of atony.
Perhaps if I did not exist life would not have any harmony, meaning that the real of the imaginary in the shop windows prays, because, because all eat at a strange and painful table that pervades the void between fear and arrival in voice to the cruel desire to be food from the misery of others.
I feel happy. I am happy because I see the air in many, the trees dancing, the flowers perfuming the fragrance of unidentified smell in the subjective reason of the verbena that by my poison kills what I am.
In the early hours of my dawn my shop windows accompanied by sonnets, poems and lives that in shadow tell me answers and help me in the anchor of the barcarola that whistles to me even knows, right? So many that I can't wake up from my lustful stage in the rain and never moan in fury in the dim light of a candle almost in its extinguishing the comings and goings in cruel but massaged strangers who speak to me until I fall asleep in peace as one. angel dressed in winter evening mornings or maybe spring ... Summer! Autumn!
I can see what you do not see and feel sensations that you have never felt in parts because you are alone in the midst of a whole. I can be my mirror reflected in reflections from which I see them and I have to shut up so as not to be treated as the insane, profane God who is in the anguish of being defenestrated by birds of prey, vultures in search of carrion and wishing to eat the slime of other people's suffering with its thick drool, thick liquid tense for digestion.
Smile at me and my naked companions, smile! I know what they did and do to me in order to win in the game of lewd passions a little care. I receive the help that many do not receive and I seek only to sleep my own sleep with the medicines that are part of my life in cloister. On the other hand, of the muds, it is so good without and not living what my tormentors live in the blurred diminutive life.
I have people who look out for me and don't treat me like an object being and make me breathe the air with the desire just to be at peace with the Inas family ...
From October 2017 until ... My life feels like fighting with the air I breathe so that I don't lack oxygen to breathe.
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