I look at him. I withdraw arguments that validate their existence and the eyelids are hidden, emphasizing the inclination towards the invisible dust that ideas accumulate.
the order of architects did not allow itself to be corrupted and gave me water spread over ornate bridges in an open space.
Without an ennobled record, I cannot immolate myself in the pleasant companionship of solitude.
change my state
remove the donkey flaps
kick all the past
I put the future ahead.
08 december 2019 - 23:54:43 h
in the carnal fight provoked by indecision
of existential problematics
02 september 2019 - 00:541 12 h
Between the sad and the laughing I drink the joy of the words and in the chair of self-analysis I am awarded
for the sweet encounter with the present.
The reason for registering unattainable ideas is because of the need to fill the morning ahead without a shred of mystery.
Isolation diminishes the mental order, leading to the vexation of dreams. There is power in wanting, while giving up suffers joy. It is not the greed of social strife that aids wisdom.
I want to get out of myself and the flesh will not let it, even venting trembling sweetness. I pretend to retreat. I think with possession, and it was long gone when I called for myself, perplexed by my bad manners to loiter my conscience.
It even drove the rest of the afternoon,
if my wish was not so tasteful.
I miss you a lot. I love my new Grouping, but I don't forget the great experiences I had at PG, mixed with the regret that I couldn't give more of myself in your company.
Life has strange paths that must necessarily be traveled.
Thank you for upsetting me and for showing me that I am human and therefore more than wrong. They stay in my heart and greatly contributed to being better in person and a much better teacher.
I am in another reality, closer than I am, but more enriched by what I had from you. I will visit you whenever I can. Forever grateful.
Now I have the calm in correct degrade, as below I dedicate myself to offerings of cakes Latin pastry.
I carry the beautiful in my arms.
Waterfalls of Joy Wrap the Past
in the breeze that leaves with me.
so much the sun covers the wind
how the earth eats the air
just like the thought
always always questioning.
panorama where delight
in a feeling that I want so much
what a beautiful awkward love
You can see it as soon as I overstate it.
a moment taken
generates a distinct future
fruit from the garbage removed
It's a present for my feelings.
The Mask of Time
What a serenity it is that fills with emotions that are strangely easy to reflect. Perhaps the dream, with its reflections of glazed physical neediness in the smoked one, does not misrepresent my legacy that I have always found resplendent in magic.
Art married me
but I want nothing from her
everyone thinks I follow her
taking into account that the care.
(Heptassyllable or Greater Roundel)
The taste for the individual comes from the creative
and of the slave thoughts of the head-wheel shape.

The fish in the water greet me with the crumbs of the sewers and the secrets of the riddles in the rubble of Aveiro. The fruitful night has poisonous brilliance and sequins of Greek origin, with a sassy rostrum to ask.

Looks like the outside has stripped of its monotonous
and consecrated the volatility that all illusions have.
Phrases gush and meander around
from the dungeon where I am a creator.
In the high city being happy is a bad tribute
dizzy for your hindrance.
Legending the past because the now,
covered in reason, does not lift a finger.
If it were possible to ignore the cold thread of hunger
He was in love with the indifferent.
There are gods that guide me
but it is I who pay them, who dismiss them and allow them.
12 october 2010 - 00:46:39 h
Insulation is a test right now,
effabulations between the right and the rematch threshold.
It's twenty-one and thirty-seven, and I no longer know if the sky is clouded or darkened. At this point I fail to see the stillness of the walls, chairs, rakes, astrolabes, soap dishes, and I don't join fingers either because they stick together, just romance alone like an illustrious doorknob that nobody turns.
Write nothing on a sword edge. Going back and forth, inside an egg, prayers of sharp saints in the corners repel the weeping days. I get insane, and suddenly the royal's arrow sticks a dagger in my shoulder. I recover from the bad and stop distracting myself from me.
He was sitting, trying to enjoy what he was doing and yet he was annoyed not knowing what he wanted. That was when he gave me a boogie and I realized, without ignoring it, that it was already lifeless and I didn't want to notice it.
While savoring the clean air someone got burned in the dirtiest. It says how it went, is that without seeing I can't believe it, it tells the most open ears that dirty air is for the poorly thought out pots, for the unearthed fools of the illusion of youth.
What a second trick to prepare the saying to make it blessed. Cacao sweetener that scolds me bad, windowless car with saddle seats traveling in a vein to one ear to peek at the unjust as if it were a Cusco rumor. Close this abnormal expression in a singular way. Discredit the rhymes that are all enemies and work the lived to improve what is followed.
I never buy or sell an experience
I guarantee neither one nor two nor three
this business can only bankrupt
No one suffers, no one loves in our turn.
(hendecassílabo)

In this fruitful moment,
I remember other things in the world,
no gall or vagrant asphalt.

Uninterrupted I chase my steps and then run away from them fearing the dry recesses of luck. Horseshoes break my audacity, I recover, and again I'm stiff, with no muscles in my face, no value in my chest, no power to stand out.

I notice sketches of this world, ill-fated, virulent paintings decorated with the retrograde idea of ??human doom. They forget the sky that reflects all the human smiles and the white clouds cast by the powerful dreams of the daring. I criticize such painters and their fans. This picture does not please me! I gathered some money and bought more vivid paints. Then I stared at the world, and with my cuteness I covered a much more pleasing canvas.

Day in a happy state of being
in a normal grace imposed by fortunate welfare.

In this simple act I dismiss superficiality,
with a backache savoring the anatomy of common sense.

Everything is imperfect in the search for mortality without addictions.
Everything is perfect in the pursuit of addiction immortality.

In these spring days, where the time is now for a few months and coinciding with the round-moon, I feel like glancing over the stories of human nature that are so cleverly wrapped around the regional pronunciations, the pulls of modern sources. , in the nectar of the juiciest fruits, in the phrases spoken with valid words, in the pampering, in the games, in dark chunks, in the old vegetables, in the inalienable forecasts and in the unanimous conjectures of autonomous bonifrates.

It's easier to write with metaphor tanks
and branches of allegories to clearly expose
which is sometimes not so obvious.

If I run away from words they chase me.
I grab them and my attention engages and thinks.

Tear the webs to block the veins, do not breathe to avoid constancy. Translating the now behind the writing, blessed remedy in the words you say. Amend the error that I do not know if incorrect or if poorly done.

It is the colors that access the emotions and mix them with the sum of diverse cuties.

Easy is to let life jump like a fly flight,
through agonizing moments of sentimentality.

What an existential sense the immortal of creativity demarcated from reality.

I prefer a punch and an arrow in the chest
that the sight of a defective temple.

Fall into my space and misanthrope archive spoils in a hidden field in my lap. I turn emergent and incoherent bono. I dispute the lack of revolt. I stretch my legs and nothing kills me, nothing shakes me from this sphere
race of sins.
A refreshment of indiscipline drips, and the agenda falls straight into a shell of discord. I hobble to escape the mousetrap and lurk my life not to yawn in a shotgun. I prepare the shield and learn suicidal.
I vulgarize blasphemies, cynical smoking, clinical venge.
Take ideas no one touches
and leave the party without opening your mouth.
It costs me to see the day disappear
without a record that glorifies him.
in my eyes a funnel always rotated
the field of vision changes, it's crazy
what is beautiful becomes giant, enlarged
and the ugly less ugly, a little less.
(hendecassílabo)
The swinging arm and time give what it has while laughing handsaw flights on a torchless carpet.
To remember is to love me deified.
Bitter thistles at will roll! I, attentive, remain complete, my being is me, my full self. Distracts prose falls on the subway. Don't get it right. End point every seven words and clear the measure. This, writes smooth and without scale! I say scrupulous, foolish in joy, describe forms of gravity somersault that squeezes me.aperte.