Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Senseless Stuff. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Senseless Stuff. Mostrar todas las entradas

jueves, 12 de noviembre de 2009

Qué pasa cuando no sentís nada.



¡Te amo, te amo, te amo!
Si, a vos te digo.
A NADIE.

jueves, 14 de mayo de 2009

jueves, 16 de abril de 2009

Physics


According to magnetic laws it makes sense. I'm a shaft of light, you're a photograph . Cheese ! In the picture you kiss my lips, and I kiss yours. Then you kiss my chest, my back, my legs and slip your hands so gently through my damp skin from shoulder to fingers. Stop. Image, image, image. And Recording. Trembling you touched my hands with your fingertips, softly at the beginning. I wish I knew was done next, but I didn't care at all. In the midtime I suppose that I fell asleep while seeing the full moon reflecting everywhere. You saw me and realized that my upper and lower eyelashes where both glued to each other. But it seemed it didn't stop anything. What's that smell? Something is burning. Your hands, that were so nicely touching mine, were now killingly hot and holding my arms so tightly that they reached my humerus, burning them too. Stop spitting needles out at me, if only I knew they were not mean to hurt me, but to sew me on. The idea felt so powerful, so attractive, so healing, so sweet that I could chew it for an eternity. I've fallen down the deep hole.

sábado, 4 de abril de 2009

Dusk and Summer


Don't waste your time
Or time will waste you

lunes, 30 de marzo de 2009

Velvety Final

Theater curtains up.
Act one:
(To myself)
Not sickly romantic. Not stupidly in love. Not sweet flying dreamer.
No longer all that useless garbage combo. Feet on the shitty ground, at last.
Scene one:
Throw away every idea you had about love at the time you let the ashes fall down from your cigarrette.
Scene two:
Drink my deep vengeance as the hot coffee burns your frozen throat, from frozen body, frozen heart.
Scene three:
I'll be there when the earthquake make it collapse, and I'll make sure to enjoy it to the last drop.
Scene four:
Indifference & Lust are both visible on my pupil and cornea. Pull my optical nerves to prove it.
Scene five:
Hello my dearest selfish bastard, I'm a neverending dying stomachache.
Scene six:
Goodbye
Theater curtains fall.

jueves, 19 de marzo de 2009



And for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost my self.

jueves, 12 de marzo de 2009

Shapeless Monologue

I’m a silhouette, someone’s memory you’ve got about. I could change my personality and my shape if you want it too. You can only see me in dreams and you can do whatever you want with me. You are also allowed to kiss me, fuck me, kill me or eat me. Anything.
The fact is that you should not juggle with me just like that, I have a boilng point, don’t be silly.
It gets on my nerves when the boss goes like, “tarara” - just a way of saying it –, closes his eyes and plays with me as if I were plasticine and as if he were a fucking immature and dreaming child, for God’s sake.
That’s when I expand and turn myself into black. Yes, I grow larger and larger all over your vision. My boss is now in shadows and I love it, it excites me. He is not able to understand it, to open his eyer nor see . Who is laughing now, huh?
I decide it’s enough, I’m not a bad .. hologram? . No, I’m not, and I know that. He opens his eyes and the light burns my nonexistent body and every particle I wish I had disappear from the face of my world. Till the next time. I’m looking foward to it. I miss you already.

martes, 3 de marzo de 2009

YA

BASTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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miércoles, 11 de febrero de 2009

Fuck me, my mind and my questions.

And what if i was born somewhere else? Some other neighborhood, country, or continent? Think about it, how my body would be. What color my hair would have, even my skin may be different. My mind, likes and dislikes. So then, what's left to my heart and soul? Is it destined to be garbage and fail, or is a possibility that it could have beaten of happiness like a clock counting the seconds of my existence? Could that be possible? And, damn it, what if I’ve made other choices?. I shivered.

domingo, 25 de enero de 2009

Material

Get your fucking feet back on the ground !
Get you feet back on the ground
Me hacen minimamente más feliz, al carajo con todo.

lunes, 12 de enero de 2009

El amor de mi vida :

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Hannah.
Sos mio y de nadie más - aunque me muerdas sin razón. Insanity ..

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