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what a message! Once dried

THANKS FOR JUMPING THE SMALL POOL ... THANK YOU FOR
PUDDLE JUMPING THE LITTLE GIRL ...

landed on my soul without hesitating FALL ...
YOU LAND ON MY SOUL IN THE FALLING WITHOUT HESITATION ...

MY HEART WAS DUMB AND HEAR YOUR CALL ... MY HEART WAS
MUTE IT AND HEARD YOU CALLING ...

WHEN YOU BUY MY LIFE WAS IN SALES ... Bought
YOU WHEN IT WAS MY LIFE FOR SALE ...

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stay from the last flood, I decided to hermetically seal the door ...

blows, as the spine of each book is covered in dust and nothing remains to be reissued in my garage my friend ... the fall from the roof leaks and shifted the walls to return to its original place as a major vector. The water does not accumulate, is reused over and over again, and nothing is filtered from my past to bother this supposedly nonexistent tense: present perfect = "a day ..."

A mouth another mouth shut and swallow the past is forgotten, we live today. I told you when my life began, is not it darling?

That

I think this summarises All That I wrote before (you'll Have to translate it):

Every time I breathe by your side my lungs are cleared of sadness .

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sometimes ...

Sometimes the reason lies in a hidden place in our brain and the soul is freed from his chains.

Sometimes the heart beats so hard, we heard the sound vibrating and is stuck so that we can not ignore.

Sometimes, plant, my heart, my soul and my brain, I want at once and provided intensity that I am not sure if there may be a force like that going.

An atomic bomb explodes under my ribs, leaving a sweet taste radiation all over my body, and how sad it bursts forth, and the pain becomes pleasure.

Sometimes my brain needs to think of something and whispers to my soul in search of ideas, that's when my heart pumps your name all over my body ... I need you around all the time

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to take? to pick the petals off?

pluck the petals of a whole field margaritas to know if you love me.

cross the Atlantic by swimming to kiss you goodnight.

when tired, I'll give you my air until the last breath, nothing will remain in my lungs

and when my legs would not withstand the weight of my body, my hands will continue helping you to get up.

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trust i seek, and i find in you (both) ... Every day for us Something New

That little piece of heaven nervous blonde who seems to have an inexhaustible battery. Pleasant dream that rosy-cheeked. That slap of roses without thorns ...

That girl over. That perpetual smile that would raise the dead. That angel who came down to refuel ...

AY! RUBI RUBI, YOU UNDERSTAND ME NOW ...

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tribute to Poe


From my old eyelids looked into his eyes while
with my tattered pride

offal thinking of all my evil deeds

A prosecution
hand with his spear pointed me
look at me! I'm not the same now!
I might be hope ...

With deep voice moaned
minute - you've changed, I hope
but do not want to give hope
on this day, my faithful companion
in which I tell you ...
- do not say! Will I die?

A corpse on the carpet
a corpse in the shadow
and the wall, watching, hands keep turning


mouth in a smile
a crow on the ledge
Poe poems in hand. It is better to die
redeemed
to die in dark past.

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TO LOOK FOR LIFE IN THE EYES (DI GOODBYE MY LITTLE HAND!)

End suspiciously became clear, his chest was going to cross the finish line and stopped. Had learned that winning was not there first, and less if you know where you've arrived. Winning was getting somewhere, it did not matter the position, defeating the event, saving all the risks and of course living, that was what it was. He turned and saw them reach the rest of the runners. Erased the word 'competition' on his forehead and pulled the back of the shirt with a quick motion. "I was under the wheel, I'm not a mouse. Just my opinion here, and here I begin to live. " The signals are turned off for your eyes and walked through the woods with nothing. I do not know if someone came part or simply through a wooded path, is more, do not even know if he took a road but when he felt tired and sore, the air that hit to get into his chest was the sweetest taste that man can never prove .

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TIME ... OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMHHHH

The Broad Street appeared before them dark and monstrous, as if someone lurking behind every corner, behind every dumpster, even under each tile. He walked thoughtfully, gazing at the starry sky while the young man fixed his hazel eyes in the face of his companion for a walk, watching every arching of his eyebrows, wondering what he was thinking. The silence cracked, and a cloud threw cold air of the city from the mouth of the girl when he started talking.

- What do you think?

The boy's eyes seemed to breathe for a moment, when he returned to reality.

- Just thinking about that ... I hate it, your street.

- Do you hate? Do not be mean, I live in it.

- No, do not get me wrong, I hate only at night, by day I love more than any street around the globe.

- How is that possible? What is special about this pile of paving stones? Why do you hate and love so much?

He took his time, pondered his words, shame and left weighed the words were out of his mouth fluently as he watched the glow of the streetlights in the eyes of his friend.

- I love ... yes, the love, because when the ground floor the day, it means that I go to your house, to call, because my footsteps in this place mean that I will see you and you are going to be radiant, as always have been, because If you hit a bump, a jump in the line of my life that makes her look dead, like an electric shock on a heart that has stopped working.

She looked down and his skin turned red. He continued:

- I hate this street at night and right now because in a few minutes we will be your portal and you will smile and I smile, then both say a sentence to be minor as the kick your way out to the elevator, and start my way back. Begin to walk again, again thinking that this was the end of another day, and the rest of a box on the calendar tells me that may not be taking advantage of our time.

Then there was only silence.

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How many alcohol-filled compasses have to break definitively lost the north?

How do you think will hold the steam engine if you keep feeding this way? How

think it takes for the snow to freeze not only your nose, but your brain too? Can angry

a fictitious being created over a thousand years ago when people kill in its name? How

started those wars in defense of peace?

(When we became so contradictory?, When we decided to self-loathing?,

When did we decide that a small piece of metal became our index finger?

Why do we let rule us?)

Trying to live your life is like sleeping with the keys outside the door to the sight. Someone will surely come, and will not be to say hello.

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LOSING SIGHT FOR PERIPHERAL. for those who look only in front

FOR WHICH NO WORK, GOVERNING THE WORKING TO THE POINT OF enslavement.


You sit at the table, look forward and smile the rest of the diners.
reached out, the remote is distant (sometimes it seems that hence its name) and after a slight effort you take it. You might even ask someone close to you to avoid wasting energy and notice how your ass is becoming increasingly embedded in the sides of the chair every day (that obesity is not given by the genes is also well regarded today . "healthy eating").
The camera follows your hand while she picks up the spoon and takes it to the plate. Now we have a closeup of your big mouth filling noodle soup that slip by your tongue and highlight the brightness of the silver fillings to wear your teeth. I can almost see Dante walking through your mouth.
When you change the channel on TV, five blacks that seem to scrape the fish displayed on the screen, pleading and sad faces. A voice rises and says something about a euro a day to sponsor a dirty Negro. I dislike the idea, right? Do you laugh? While
babosear meaningless words without your wide belly begins to vibrate. Their undulating movements could be hypnotic if your pocket was not so full of whips to enslave the black fish scrape.
Advertising space is not yet finished and is now heard a male voice speaking on cable television that costs "only one euro a day." Another one for the collection. Your ivory cane trembles under your great figure and you come to the phone to ask you to install this marvel.
Price varies depending on the month, but usually about 30 whips month. Not very expensive. Enjoy
you who can.

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KNOW WHAT THAT TEARS ya?

People said it was a fucking queer and fat as a kid. Later just called him a fag, and he covered his ears and shut your mouth.

recalls with a smile and slight feeling of anxiety while an entire class shouted. A crowd "furiosita" (As would say) is getting closer to calling him fat and pointing as if they were the parents in the process of transfer of a child who the poor boy had eaten, and when I thought I could not get worse, as his eyes began to get wet, a white patch of the sky fell Vigo coastal land in his head like a big egg being cracked from sliding thick hair. The cries of the children stopped and a voice was raised, "with how great it is no wonder that the gull give," and then laughs. Angry infernal laughter by the cruelty of children, and making hell the minute the boy. But he said nothing. It put your shirt tucked in, buttoned the mandilón and walked head down to your class. Recess was over. Listen

still cries from the first morning, and previous tricks are reflected in her sad eyes but still force their cheeks to make him draw a wrinkle on her face that turns into broad smile.

wake up with a pink veil before the eyes, like living in a cloud blast but fluffy. His ears are smoothed bad words to reach your brain gently sweetened, without malice, and the first word that comes to mind when you see him open the door is "harmony." Simple and easy harmony. Harmony without explanation, smooth harmony. Only this, and after you smile. Converts
childhood trauma
able to carry an elephant to sit on a couch in a psychoanalyst in small glass beads made memories, to look at from time to time and laugh without pain and with some regret. There was a time when the slightest alteration made him cross himself, and following this to Miguel likes to call "my little monster" and explain that he and Paul became the Antonio is now, not out of the cloud but standing looking at Earth with untrained eyes, watching and learning every day.

sometimes think I should not learn both at once, because sometimes you're wrong, and I realize that he was forced to grow up fast and refused to do so in some ways, to balance the scales.

Neither his mother nor his brothers, nor anyone in his family opened enough eyes, but his friends know that none of them deserves to have his name in the tree (of course remain, returns to balance other balance. I here again the harmony).




To Antonio.

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Here I am, nevertheless
doing a hell of a night
making a waste
my tears wishing, that when

otherwise my day becomes bright
goes my moon, my sun lights
open their eyes and understand my role.
but every second you notice

colder where you been, darling?
have not seen you insist,
exist without you even do not know what would

where have you been, years mine?
still alive, though hidden and elusive
in my past there are only empty

you should fill with recent memories and not go

going crazy that my time spent is short to waste in vain


stories leave the door open
SEALANT hard the past
Keep eyes
always awake somewhere still

because at every moment
any changes shape
last surviving
who will gingerly
and this is the highest standard.

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PROBLEMS IN THE "FIRST WORLD

At last managed to write the first word and as he did a tear slid down her cheek. The frequency was accurate, a tear for every two words as he began writing with minimal fluid, until he noticed that the paper was falling apart under the trembling circles of moisture that had inadvertently caused. He hurried to clean it, but as they hand over all the ink stains was scattered, drawing a kind of watercolor furious after that could hardly read what has been written. Crumpled paper. She had told herself that her last words should be somewhat important, not the madness of a seal either drunk or the last ritual of a psychopath, but well defined their parents had a lot of times. No hated life, hated his life, embedded in a straitjacket by their parents and almost inert because of the fucking pills antipsychotic for not wanting to be like the rest.


PROBLEMS "more green (what fun)" IN THE THIRD WORLD

The car stopped in front of the tiny little cabin where they had traditionally lived. Like westerns, could almost hear the tune that indicated that there would duel to the death. The "stupid white man had arrived." The back door opened and an elderly man looking healthy and well dressed out of the car dust staining their expensive shoes. He waved his hand and got darker front window. Said something to the driver and nodded. The mysterious gentleman began his path to the door, where he was waiting for the owner, a tall, thin black race (?) Dressed (?) That were almost pieces of shirt (or shirts) and a small torn panties. They talked a while and then the white man fired. When out of sight, the other man (just a kid) hit hard part of what was left of the screen door. She swallowed her tears and kept that envelope containing less money than it costs here a cotton shirt, which is much worse if one considers that he picked cotton on a daily basis to make a whole lot of shirts for any sports shop. And he is one of the lucky ones "living" in that third of the world.

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VINCENT IS THE FIRST FILM OF DIRECTOR TIM BURTON.




Vincent Malloy is seven years old,
He's always polite and does What He's Told.

For a boy his age he's considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.

He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog and cat,
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats.

There he could reflect on the horrors he's invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.

Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.

He likes to experiment on his dog Abacrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie.

So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.

His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass the time.

While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.

One night while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale.

Such horrible news he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive.

He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flower bed.

His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doom.

Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with a portrait of his beautiful wife.

While alone and insane, encased in his tomb,
Vincent's mother suddenly burst into the room.

"If you want to you can go outside and play.
It's sunny outside and a beautiful day."

Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn't speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak.

So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
"I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again."

His mother said, "You're not possessed, and you're not almost dead.
These games that you play are all in your head.

You're not Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy.
You're not tormented, you're just a young boy."

"You're seven years old, and you're my son,
I want you to get outside and have some real fun."

Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall.

The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.

He saw Abacrombie his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave.

She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands.
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands.

Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept His mad laugh to terrified screams.
To escape the madness, I Reach for the door, So I

historical and horrible zombie dog, But Fell
limp and lifeless down on the floor. WAS

His voice soft and very slow,
As I quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe,

"And my soul from out That shadow floating on the floor,
Shall be Lifted - Nevermore!"

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the lost world, not found, the searched and "progress" by TIM BURTON

began to walk around the room looking more closely at the back of every book, every volume of the encyclopedia, each cassette. After a while he bent down and I could see the start of migration in his earlier combed top. "My uncle is beginning to be Calvet" I thought, and the idea of seeing my young buddy bright head made me laugh. Set his sights on a book and said something. The truth is that he had been all the while talking about books they had read of the room, but had not said anything interesting. Looking at the volume he said: "1984 ... and what happened at the end in that year? Nothing happened ... "I was watching him against the wall, I looked with my eyes of nine or eight years and commented:" In 1984 the premium was born Mary. " He smiled and went to the movies. Whenever he came we went to the movies.

At that time I did not know what he meant. I assumed he meant that nothing happened special in that year and wrote a book called 1984 was nonsense.

what exactly is prophecy? Guess who? "Asimov? "Huxley? "Dick? ... "Orwell?

why none of his works in the future world (or this alternative) is better? Why even a brave new world only believes to be happy?

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Mr. an Mrs. Smith Had a wonderful life.
They Were a normal, happy husband and wife. They Got One day
News That made Mr. Smith glad. Would
Mrs. Smith Would Be a mom
Which Would make him the Dad!
But Something Was Wrong With their bundle of joy. It wasn't human at
all,
it was a robot boy!
He wasn't warm and cuddly
and he didn't have skin.
Instead there was a cold, thin layer of tin.
There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.
He just lay there and stared,
not living or dead.






The only time he seemed alive at all
was with a long extension cord
plugged into the wall.
Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,
"What have you done to my boy?
He's not flesh and blood,
he's aluminum alloy!"
The doctor said gently,
"What I'm going to say
will sound pretty wild.
But you're not the father
of this strange looking child.
You see, There still is Some question
about the child's gender,
But we think That STI father
is a microwave blender. "






The Smith's lives Were now filled
with misery and strife.
Hated her husband Mrs. Smith, I Hated
and His Wife.
I never forgave her unholy alliance: a sexual encounter

with a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy Grew to Be a young man.
Though He Was Often Mistaken
for a garbage can.

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crash

hope the day will dawn with no noise, so I can hear the tongues of fire as the sun fall back on themselves, while drawing in air a figure to have it blow away. I Lay on the grass and see the whole scene, from the first timid beam to the total emergence of our great lamp.

On the day I hope to run faster than anyone, and only I know.

On the day I hope I can sing loudly without anyone set me thinking about how good it would be a shirt with buckles.

On the day I hope they'll shut up politicians, parents, players and celebrities. That day I will listen to me.

On the day I hope I can know for sure how I am without a doubt, and someone else (anyone, who cares?) Shall also give.

On the day that I hope no one will face and we all can learn without fear or prejudice.

On the day that I hope the colors will be at my beck and I can paint like never before.

On the day I hope my voice will not crack and lose my shyness.

On the day that I hope will serve the student teacher.

On the day I hope to bite a piece of the moon to finally know what the hell knows.

On the day that I hope someone will give me a pat on the back (no white coat) and my eyes will dry quickly.

On the day I hope my jaw would disengage from all the laughing.

On the day I hope progress will mean the same thing you put into the dictionary, like many other words.

On the day I hope to die all religious leaders and the letters of the Bible and the Koran and other books, will disappear to make way for other science-fiction style.

On the day I hope to try not to wake me to believe he could be real.

what if you never had a good day? If I spend a lifetime waiting for something to happen that never happen?

 

Cita musical :

                     

“it´s better to burn out

than to fade away

my my, hey hey "

If life is a transitional stage, and I'm in a good car, what do I wrong? "I fault the seat? Do not I have good co-train? Before breaking the ticket, it is better to wait if you come sit by the reviewer (or reviewer) to advise us on who we should lay before dismounting.

peeling back the glass. (... ...) How do you say? Does it exit?

(Salta

Break it)

-try not to do so.

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SPECIES III: A NEW BEGINNING

I started looking for the exit, but it was almost impossible. After much kicking, I saw a knife coming through the thin walls of the kind of soft coffin in which I was. Suddenly, two creatures of five huge limbs and his head caught me and pulled me gently. Later, I took him by the feet and one of the two creatures set out to beat me. During the endless oscillation of my body I could see that the creatures were part of the same body like my kind, but much larger, white around the body except the eyes and ears. Disgusting.

Finally, the creature turned out to be a limb (with tips) crashed into my back. A shiver ran down my bleeding body to concentrate on my cheeks, and then into my mouth. I started screaming like a madman. I screamed and screamed and a salty liquid flowed from my eyes. The large mobile cloud came up to me and I owned. Completely enveloped me and the other being caught us both. The new being (also like my kind) put me on the limbs of another.

- Here is your son, "he said.

(ANY DAY YOU BACK TO THE BEAT, PHYSICIAN Bastard)

In my family (that turned out to be the third child) often call me stubborn. If born now and beat notes rocked me back, you cry? Birth would you know? "Stick a scream and he would return? I refuse to mourn. NO MORE TEARS

. NO MORE TEARS. NO MORE TEARS. NO MORE TEARS. NO MORE TEARS.

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i_am_pity @ 2004-06-23T16: 43:00

Open the door of my house.

do not know. You may be left open to me, that is, without having turned the key (TRAGEDY), anything could have happened if someone had entered while I was (TRAGEDY). There may be someone in my room, playing my guitar, fingering my movies, ripping pages of my books (TRAGEDY) ...

Turn the key and check that they actually forgot to turn the key.

my parent's voice in my head (do you realize what could happen?). And I realize. ANYTHING could happen ....

nothing happens.

nothing ever happens.

Everything goes by so slow and fast while there is time to do nothing and get bored too much to be concerned. I hardly remember the meaning of the word event (EVENT ACONTECIMIENTO.. SUMMARY. REMEMBRANCE. RECORDABLE).

If there is nothing to remember, how will it be something to remember? Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock 13:46 lunchtime ... what then?

Event sm important Event

I am inside.

The thief / murderer / sadistic evaporates and enters my set of keys and enter a green and monstrous genie in the bottle (criminals, come, come out, walk through my halls, eat my fridge. The difference would mark a memory to forget, is not it?). I'm still alive. Am I alive? I'm still alive. So they say. So this is what they call live ... live live live live live live live live boring boring boring boring vivburrido aburvivo.

I hit the rewind.

Way back.

close the door.

"I keep the key?

locked.

throw the wrench at the elevator shaft.

down to the street.

1:00 am (how much time has passed? Think helps the time to run)

run along the street.

And I run

And I run

And I run

crying out loud. Stronger. Stronger. Stronger.

- Good night. Me / good night. I'm you.

bring you to record messages on your answering machine tape. Must be weighed, of course. First message. I love you.

- (sniff)

- consider me your first memory. Do you want more messages? Please do something for me (/ you) is not (s) alone.

- I am your right hand. Use me to beat your face a couple of times.

- I'm your broken heart. I have thirst, I have hunger, your blood is red in appearance only. Fill me and Empty me, just to pump life. AMA.

- are your legs. Runs out of physical sense and that we deal with us.

- I am the combined sound of your vocal cords. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- I'm your brain (tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, I'm your clock) tick, tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick BOOM!

- toc, toc! I'm the body a spontaneous died of boredom. Cases will not like me, do not let the cobwebs covering your being, your watch inflation, inflate your agenda, and when you're done, inflate to those around you.

I would give anything (maybe my eyes if you still have one) by air that does not use to inflate myself. Will sound trite but I heed your (/ you) and uses every second from now. The watch you fools, needles rotate in the opposite direction, the time is not forward, running backwards. Everything is a countdown. When running, look a brand and countdown. If you do it wrong, you are running negative numbers.

- I'm your left eye, the right and I have open at once. Both of you have heard I (/ you), you and the body spontaneously. Make an effort to open ourselves completely. Look around and screams. You mourn if you are willing, we will consider you. The humidity does not bother us.

- I'm your sheet. Do not sweat over trying to sleep. No more tears soak me. Escúrreme. Escúrrete. If I wash and I am drained like new. I do not know much but is a good solution to start over. Try it.

- I'm your rubber. I can only delete, I can never create anything beautiful. You can create and undo. Operator stop complaining! And believe in creating. Design your life and if you need me, delete me.

- I am your strength and I'll finish this. Every time I train in the gym, I fill me too. Two spectra:

* Physical Strength.

* Will.

I keep your cohesion. I can hold the grenade too long before loosening and it explodes. Trust me. I trust you.

''Smile''crazy / chair, drawn on my face. Welcome to the world. Upload home. Rest. Tomorrow is another day. ''''

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Forgetting Everything Before Her lips Talk to me

too long without writing ...

She raises her hand and all the noise stops. Here is where the camera slowly makes its role in the film. The moment should go briefly through happiness which implies, is extended and his hand caressing the air to stir. It then breaks the silence and a voice sweet goodbye. I follow the direction of the voice and I will stop their lips, they smile. That smile ... who could imagine that a red moon could be more beautiful than the rest in heaven?

After the afternoon sun on the run
Another bright star hovers
Dismissing the sweetest aroma
That by the warm air flows

many times have I dreamed

Breathe in the atmosphere after the wait I admire everything has
finished!?

YOU LINDA HERMOSA HERMOSA

YOU BEAUTIFUL LINDA LINDA LINDA HERMOSA
YOU YOU YOU BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL


I want to be the owner of the track and not miss

view I want to be the owner of the track and not miss

view I want to be the owner of the And do not lose track

view I want to be the owner of the track and not miss

view I want to be the owner of the track and not miss

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jojojo ke hope this yes I think it is

view

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this is the last stupid

PARENTAL

ADVISORY

I_AM_PITY CONTAINS EXPLICIT LYRICS

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and another to see if this time does not give to fuck and is the photo

Which Random Image are you?
Name:
Age:
Favorite Color
You are:
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