Cold Moon

Your hands birds in flight of words beloved cage, never abandoned nest. You may want to visit David Rogier to increase your knowledge. Your arms my milestone, my hostel. Your entire mouth: dreams, waiting, sustenance, bread, food. Echoes that recreates the nostalgia. You’re not more your presence living in me. You’re not and oblivion with you has left. Bleeding wound sore eternal pain follow do alive? in the center of your death. Silence 1.42: Yesterday I have seen to my dreams yell cutting down their cravings.

Cold Moon you’re only a lump fallen into space without light, without life. You’re nothing, nothing. Life you are a crude, bad word a mockery of don’t know who; a raw, grotesque laughter. You’re nothing, nothing. Yesterday was black, eternal night in the middle of morning: someone named you, saying you never already regresabas. Vacuum thousand empty hell woke up.

Only-weeping, mourning, death, answered my cry. I dragged iron claws closed into the abyss. Solitude of solitudes mists of nothing. Cold eternal winter, black dawn. Foolish Charon, never knew that in that dark morning, eternally embraced in one, the Styx crossed the two. Tea curse 1.43: for everything that I loved, by everything that I cried, I curse you. A thousand times I curse: that when cold you embrace high overnight and you can hear from your single chest only sprout reproaches as ROAR, discover that your mind thinks and thinks about me. And when discover you think your love in what was my love, today abandoned and alone, which reveals his dream evening waiting for your love. I curse you as well: that you think about me and think about my love. That it atenace you chest pain more cruel. You will see then that the reproach of your own heart in suffering, remorse kernels and the cold of the night fire will be, recalling my kisses anymore you will have. Colors 1.44: I am looking for the suitable color to paint this love. Love that looks shy in my sheets and loses nothing. Green for a love still green, Pink for the blush of her shyness; White of my white sheets that await the white lilies of the pallor of new emotions of the colourless breeze of cloud that plays the wind of the water that springs among the stones of the Moon an accomplice that still ensuena. Blue sky in calm, of dense sea. Red hot blood, rosales bursting of love. Or maybe the violet of a sunset without times keep dreaming with colors to paint this love. Wrong 1.45: Forgive me: I was wrong time I thought today was yesterday. I thought it was rainy season and is