All this deserted loneliness
that your voice screams at me
from the blood
This immense flow
messy, of words
who die behind
of a depopulated silence.
The ancient groan and content
for a dream that does not read,
but he follows me
like a dog, racked with pain.
The baggage is heavy
that I drag on the rise,
turned into an anachronistic Sisyphus,
while I whisper your name
just like a penitent
who ignores his sin
but he apologizes.
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4
A veces leo.
Magician
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8 hours ago
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