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And here I, with folded hands for anyone to notice I am trembling
cold or fear or boredom
for me not to note that sometimes and sometimes
are the center of my life.


For anyone looking at me remember what an idiot I went
my fingers
retake the lost autonomy and speak for my
things that do not want anyone to know
things that did not tell you because they wanted to hear

And while I'm still shaking
and by lying and sighing under reproaches


Damn!, should close the window

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instead Optimists often keep some glory, which is not always today or before . Make a knot with the certainties and fill their pockets of poetry.

D. Mario Benedetti (Living on purpose)

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The case is not well how it all began or ended up in the same place that bunch of losers with no future, who complained endlessly what might have been, of hours spent in sleep, the long kisses dreamed of sunsets broken and cries of sulfur began to flood the premises.

came from a long night of partying, that's for sure, I know from the remains of mascara in the corner of my eye, hair uncombed, and that smell that cells going to eat the world. Well, I said, they were 4, two girls and 2 boys, one was particularly sad, love almost harvest was gone and he had not learned to accept it, sometimes I hoped she would return and others cursed and swore and hated and knew it was over, I watched from afar and let out a tear or two for him, I would have liked to catch him hand, put him in bed and touch her hair until he fell asleep.

The carcamusas covered the table where the other began, I thought that to be so brazenly and history after winning his land to look like the victim of all that, it was a good guy, counted as had to dig in the wreckage, which was never just happy that he had plenty of love to give, that one woman was not enough, never came to be empty, so he does, nothing more, apparently did not intend a Bogart of Ciudad Real, he told his fellow surf love and care to all those women who gave all he had, without restraint and without reason, that if he ever wound would have been left wounded by accident, because sometimes you love playing the mouth and most of the time out with injuries that are difficult to heal, it seemed sincere but did not believe him, the other two stories were similar, but heartfelt, with more decorations, more dramatic and exaggerated, but hey, I am a woman and well the bitter taste of defeat, the atmosphere is full of " nuncamequisos "and" yoloditodos ".

After a while I got tired of listening, finish removing my coffee I went to get his head in Auster and thought "Panda Go cocoons.

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Women rarely

Remember what I told you when I entered prison. Sure son, I repeat it every night so that I can not forget. Good, because I hardly remember it, tell me, tell me where the treasure. He was hiding in the street Mishaps 24 in Valladolid, stuck in the top third mailbox b. Sure, sure, now I remember, how it was called the landlord? Remember?. Clear How do you not remember?, It is the only man in the world with that name, Jose Alexandre *. Llorente True, now I remember, still, keeps telling me. Okay, in that envelope in the mailbox is a key to the bus station in Oviedo, the locker 505. Carry on, tell me more. Okay, be patient in the locker adidas is a backpack in the backpack is your train of high school, pictures of the bride that you had French, slippers, a pack of snuff, two red licorice and a map Níjar. I do not remember the name of that girl but it was very cute, one day I took her to lunch, remember?, I do not remember was that to me in Níjar. That never tell me, so I do not know, the fact is that the map is designated a downtown bar, the bar "the flower." If true, the owner had a figure of Gandalf in the bar, the guy that nerd!, Come follow, which eventually reaches the bus and someone can hear us and our future depends on it. Well, in the women's bathroom of the bar in the tank there is a bottle of Marie Brizard with a blue sheet inside this folio is written in the name of the notary to testify on your behalf at trial, we must go to him to give us the keys to the board "Carolina" in Calpe, Room 113, under the mattress is the envelope with the money. The envelope from the safe remove of grandfather France, before the accident, surely there's a lot of money, at least 20,000 francs. Honestly?, "FRF", but son, if now no longer used the Franks, now euros. Do not tell me, but I only spent fifteen years in prison, "both have things changed?. And both have changed son, well do not worry, we can always make the trip to Paris that I promised you when you were young and there we will see if we can change the money.

The guy lights a cigarette, looks at the sky against the wall and think that if that money is more or less, you have to go halfway across the country to find the envelope and that just was not worth spending fifteen years in jail, so throw the cigarette on the ground, passed his hand over his weary men to help mother and board the bus.

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A twisting and winding road goes to the little house with holes in the roof where I live, the windows are closed because they hate the light and I hate it when people see the use Marilyn Wig to be home, I guess mine manias.
I put a bag of popcorn at the micro and I feed the cat, I shave the left leg and left him totally, who cares, if anyone sees the good of the wet suit I wear daily is not notice anything. Today I looked in the elevator of work and I've noticed that I see a lot of the car, so even at the risk eccentric mind, tomorrow I'll buy a mask, a simple, not much singing, one of King mystery sure I look good.

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I fell for you to see, but of course, never will tell you, sometimes I am so you know, a coward and a disaster for personal relationships, a very poor ever in my file. On the road to my house, I laugh alone, for no reason and yet ahin me a giggle.
I spend my days trying to remember that I have to forget and when I think I get it, there are again, you make me smile and I fall again.
I do not stop to sleep in my inn, the sun does not dry the moldy walls, doors squeak passed and the dust has been to live under the bed.

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"Let me hang one of your locks until the fear leaves me finally"

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mud Tears tears from my land
children who see the smoke dawn
car children with callous hands and refuse collection

scrap every little step of losing a bit of life
no hope, no future for soot


tears Tears of men,
tired, empty the bowels
broken
pain with a cloud over his temples
the eternal struggle of they know they have nothing

nothing to gain nothing to lose

dreaming a better place in which to cradle their children die in peace
where


Tears do not stop carbon black tears

deaf husky voices no one heard
voice no one meets your prayers
fight for a piece of bread
by the warmth of an embrace
by the laughter of children
a bluer sky ...

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year I met you, the boat made in Rome and triplet
Pep people died of influenza was cold until August


and European elections were won Idol
Elias year I met you if I was not happy
but every time he stepped sounded that song in my head
that everyone expects to hear in Paris
and now I remember, things seemed pretty much me pretty

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Lies tiny


I was surprised by a pellet
quit attempt
balance when leaping decide, so no more.

think I always stronger than I am and I
delivery mouth
Chien Andalou by hiding in the corners of orange flowers

I slammed against his back without finding my site
in a wild rush of fire without extinguishing

wives escape without punishment
unfulfilled losing track of the days spent
and what promised to do and not turned

I tell people I know
I do not care, that I almost forget
or simply saying that no-growth
met
not lying is something I've never learned
and that my age is something I'll never learn

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Creativity exhausted ... Appeal dismissed


... Boredom

exceeded
Chaos, noise, thunder

Silence ..........

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Vicalvaro
Santa Eugenia
... Vallecas

...
El Pozo
... Atocha
Entrevías


That has long been the way to work.