The look that gave him the mirror was not his but that of an elderly woman with wrinkles on the retina and lies hidden more behind. Probably due to heart that he had acquired in the previous week sales, and no innocent rotten table skirts, but appropriate (or not) to use that it would. However, since that day, the nights would become more sad and lonely, but that does not matter now.
now only concerns us now, now, now that it, which takes off her blouse and bends and then throw it away (far away), not looking where he fell or flew away. And
is naked and looks.
still be seen.
is analyzed syntactically. A compound sentence, complex as herself and as all.
be re look, he turned with eyes that are curious, dropping his eyelids slowly, as if each look naked body gave him to drink hemlock (like a nightingale that tender)
And at night you leave in the warmth of the shadows, without a collar to be grasped, fingers abandoned to their fate, which is none other than fall into the nostalgia (the face you or any other).
Nostalgia ... that fucking corner filling their nights, gets into the whiskey and make it bitter. Back beauty and wrinkle wrinkle dies, and with it any glimmer of innocence that had been glued to the tongue.
Innocence Love deflowered pocket (sacrilège! Sacrilège!) Melting desire
The room is mint or leech, a celestial pearl left not really know where something that is not playable, but still, smell inside and the cooing of the shy cats.
The call room is nothing but room. It is a world away (but without any of the world, for it is neither real nor vulgar, but something totally indescribable).
First, the street lights do not light ever since the moon is jealous of the land and they are not prepared for this disappointment. Under a secret pact at midday decided to leave the eternal night to night watchman, making them perpetual then signals for the error. The streets are scenes
walking with legs hidden under the clown props, circulating aimlessly as directed by the lamps (not knowing that they confuse the north and south, and east to west)
Shhh ... Sale
a girl on stage with olive eyes. Sale and sad, but nothing happens. And shut off the twilight of focus that pervades. Take a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket of his jeans, and begins to smoke. Fuma timidly but everyone they see. She's Lola Lola ... My tender
wakes each day standing water from rivers of dreams. Ice dreams when awake, but the nights were devoted to small fires cause flesh on his sheet excited or between the sidewalks of any city lit
begins work (Applause please)
Start walking with a pair of eyes that follow. He stops and yells " hope you tonight, playing hide and seek between my legs " the gentleman who observes safe from your balcony, enjoying their sinful wanderings and throwing their hands to find her breasts (Pale milk)
muted it, is left untouched by those hands diffuse until neck obfuscated not find any to bite, climb to the balcony hoping to find something more playable.
arrives and finds the owner of the hands. I was soaked thighs. She sits on him and begins to ride, to suck the life from his mouth. Listening: The Tragedy d'Oreste et Electre. Cranes
a caress (Part IV and Final) night from a train The city was burning under our feet, which melted by the sun asking for help with their little voices, hoarse and bloody. Eyelids languished
pretentious and hips we hinted appetizing and presumably under the fabric.
Meanwhile, the sweet birds were burned in the sky and we felt more and more ghosts, no dreams of love lit or hidden remnants
The source, outside this, sputtered almost silent ...
- How dare to get you here, young lady?
- I did not dare, my feet ... I was kidnapped without warning - feet, a nice rest on the wild grass uncut
- Well ... maybe want to run away before doing something that you regret - lying indifferent to
his speech released learned time and again to young girls eager to live
(avec sa petite française Bouchez, as saying all the time "... mon dieu Oui, oui ...." )
- I do not think ... So
the second was spent with non-existent and few strokes, just a kiss in the parking lot, as marking their territory, making wait the noise of thunder after lightning. "I will eat alive," he thought ... and the worst is that I would do it.
This is how we came to the house to hide from nosy neighbors, the lights went out and we missed her lips seeking affixed in the other, eager for the touch, squeezing, biting ... unsuccessfully to get enough to start again.
( temporary lapses: kisses are gone and the smell of sex and is totally impregnated in the walls. The skin is worn, like the lips, now turned cherry look. He pretends to sleep. I I pretend not to look)
Funny how between the sheets looked so helpless and naked. As one of those children when they lie, they cover their mouths and choke with suppressed laughter, as if the mere fact of murder justify blatant lie ...
There he was ... Mr. mysterious, even revealing its turns, still keeping all of another, under the dermis Listening: Happy songs for happy people. Mogwai
