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daysofashes @ 2007-08-17T11:18:00

yesterday lost the songs that were left in my memory box . dreams in which I rested my head palbras vanished as so often promised me. I did not want to love, not want to feel, I did not discover. those places that I harbored for seconds knocked on the door of my attention and ran away to where the vacuum of silence becomes .

urns full of names that came to my name. secret texts, case permanently, covering my ears and turn to be heard, only to let the mind be enlarged that the mouth breathing, the hands are loose.

you enter a tunnel that I can not maneuver. the echo of your fear is enhanced by that of my prayers and so much noise deafened me, paralyzed me. Suddenly I become blind and I see the light that marks me out at the other end. raining and we bare inside a tube. dawns and we are barefoot, sitting inside a tube. wonders were outside on our shoes carefully we took before entering the bubble.

try to look at the fear hardens your features, but can not find you. the noise has been removed from the light that helps us to contemplate, we are left in the dark, no shoes, no silence to hear us.
the misery of the days out giant appears, at least we're sitting, holding hands, breathing our heat and noise muttering under your days and mine . a moment of blindness is not enough for me to learn to see, I need seas of hours and days to understand why your eyes move that way to me mourn. not pass darkness and at the same time, I feel that they do so in vain. decision to stay is a useless, never learn the reason for your presence .

should let go, trying to put our hands in the pocket of each and go barefoot, by the end of the tunnel. walk in the rain it is necessary to rejoin to live the nightmares before, while neither you nor I existed. should silence your fears and my prayers , we should do otherwise would never hear you again, but you better not do it. my hands are infected and yours look healthy. your voice no longer breaks , my eyes show firmness. I planted in a hile eternal thought in seconds, while the echoes were still sitting, barefoot in the cold, alone in our company. I look but do not notice, I dedicate words, but not listen.

close my eyes and watch my eyes sad. no decisions, only unjustifiable actions. we sat and waited until spring comes out with clarity as you know we will stay there for a few minutes .

Hair Extensions And Head Lice

daysofashes @ 2007-08-16T09:07:00

nobody understands the habits of others. when I was nervous, he began to clean the toilet. could find it at three in the morning polishing the faucets. watermarks and wiping the toothpaste of the mirror. bleach and leave to rest at the bottom of the tub.

sometimes you need to do something impulsive. there are smokers. There are running. that there enllustren taps at three in the morning. could find it at three in the morning removing hair from the bottom drawer of combs and brushes. it to you would be looking to face circumstances. and he, to put someone who knows that he is taking to crazy, continue with their work.

there is only one way to make them the idea. just take them as our own we can understand them. sometimes I find myself scrubbing the bathroom floor at three in the morning. never take a mop of crazy. or the cloth for glasses. would be like waking a sleepwalker.

nobody understands the habits of others. I never take the brush in the toilet. or the bottle of bleach. I do not ask what the heck, at three in the morning polishing the faucets. is something between me and my subconscious.

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daysofashes @ 2007-08-15T01:45:00

last night in the darkness imposed by the rotating cyclamen I started to die a little . I was close to the bed and I noticed in the rigidity of the sheets coffin. the heart, tired of breaking and rebuild itself, said enough to end a spasm definitely shrink. by heart because I have no more than a wrinkled and dried plum, which has ceased its contraction.

blood has stopped debating's body up, body down , body up, body down, and the only one who dares to clot is where less resistance is offered. Sabir not tell you what happened to the eyelids, or if you have been open have been closed because these two bullets danced before in the orbits no longer transmit any signal.

the brain, before soft and consistent, start watering down. the same happens when you cry belly up, it tears you to come back in skull, brain soak up punishment. Last night, I started to die a little, and still do not know how or why, but I lived explain .

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daysofashes @ 2007-08-14T11:42:00

I. La Garrigue s'abreuve sa thirst éternelle dans une attente de la pluie: comme avec Racines of pods, Griffe, ongle ou doigt, ASPIRE elle une source de ses branches tordues vide, fishing water from the sky at the net, suck up clouds of plaster and soot, while it is under the weight of its stones pens what the treasure of its moisture.

II. an arid desert where left its smell of burning fire on the dry sown confusion in a sky which seems the rain of soot and ash nourished and with a heart in turmoil, poor mold / muscle on Love the grill browned, I am delighted that the three conditions in three woes joy agency.

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daysofashes @ 2007-08-13T11:11:00

No Recordo què vaig iron per cap d'any: if Portavant vermell tanga o no . I do not know if I get to eat the grapes to the beat of the chimes not strangle me in the end. not remember if I burn the panties as they say should be done or if I put myself hopping to start the year right . just remember that I fell ass and miraculously I did not throw the whole glass of champagne on top. and I did not know how to interpret, but here was my good fortune began. began to butt on the ground a year of heart where all good things come to Find and join me. good luck in the world Sardana dance under my bed, playing cards in my pockets or something, because I do not understand but what happens.

meanwhile, did you spend looking at driving fast but enjoying the scenery of each sheet that comes died our mirrors. sometimes so much to look forward not realize that I am at your side .

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daysofashes @ 2007-08-11T10:56:00

empezara again for another would be as if the love of the two reverse . sad. or beautiful. Who knows. would be like to play what the letters sabiendo It has the numbers in their hands, and every experience Piensa pull the table, and as soon as the weather is aburrirá and let you start the half . the reverse is more clear, I would rather know the setbacks of the riveting things before the facade and the first steps toward an interior . your backhand is esrito in my notebooks and tattooed on my mind . your backhand merely my words and actions. the reverse of the two hurt me at first. Should you start believing that everything is a game, a rematch would be aimed beguiling little day and hands? who cares. look without looking, and anyway I look .

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daysofashes @ 2007-08-10T10:50:00


if walking helps reflect, I think last night helped me not to. laughter and conversation reckless had spent the night trying, with the help of three men, leaving behind a day of physical fatigue and worn words. timely spring always gives me friends with whom I dreamed, people who appear as if he had heard my cries of Sundays. Meanwhile remember my loneliness, my irrevocable decision of isolation and individual perversion of egocentrism forced by the lack of love ... remember my conversations with myself, and smiled because none of what I thought was as effective as I thought. walk, coming across environment, surrendering myself to the deceit I did, I found the instability. What kind of discipline that is mine, to swear loneliness, give me the perfect meeting of people together, and to promise secrecy and toughness, I block me to meet a man who only prevail our disagreements?