GRATITUDE promoted starting from rest, from base extended from where the channel expects the overflow time. I climbed your inclination with the push of reach, by the anxiety of share there, at the top, the peace of being close to God. I promoted defying gravity, clawing your hardened skin to fill my thoughts of his wisdom. Thanks to you I managed – imaginarily – visit the volatile, celestial ground in transparency, and caress the plumage of the condor who, like me, baby rain from the starting point. more I approached your principle thanks to you I felt smaller, increasingly smaller when more I approached your principle. GLASS liquor ruling obnubila the senses and kills the virtues. Inverts the tenderness of life bypassing emotions.
Neuronal dyscontrol agonizing announcing moments with capricious end. Paralysis of knowing and not knowing of the desires. Judgment of intoxicating drinks. Cathedral of tones with air of festivities that form, without knowing it, the Orchestra of the destruction. Kisses from sonnet darkness of sea water. Rare Lady flirts in the background. There deploys seductions and forms does not deny, because you want to find what claims.
A silent male proclaims its intention to novel. She is not blind and fanning flown that it replicates, accepting treats. Do not call it, Dodge it, he chases him, he disdains it. It ignores that instinct that is the hallmark and seeks to circumvent the intentions. He finally desist from the exhaust. It accepts you approach, you catch it and they begin their dance of emotions. ROOMS sleeping misting of the thought, time and the ancient silence of those sleeping rooms, bring an unusual aftertaste that invades my balance. He recalls the voices of those loved ones who danced the air of the sleeping quarters. Bibs of silence. Shoes without distance, scribbles of children still be sense in their sleeping quarters. Limits with sounds of challenges. Some whistle Alegre of a father or a grandfather. The expected noise of that key in the door who spoke of a comeback, is still heard in the sleeping quarters, on winter nights. The meeting on Sunday, the hallway with his kisses. The call to rest and attentive eyes of fearful mother which obliged respect, still wandering time and even today, without knowing it, remains silent in sleeping rooms which I get wet inside. Perhaps never closes the Teleon of remembrance. Perhaps there are no more tears dripping mind and dried leaves from the book of my time. Perhaps, without my knowing it, my calculations are lost in the sleeping quarters that I still feel. Original author and source of the article.