Just woke up, she turns and finds his hand, a rubber duck mid gut, eyes bulging and teeth marks on his neck. It seems that he had been tortured without stopping, until he confessed why tears are salty or something, but being a rubber duck can not speak, and that torture did not end until his executioner was tired and went to play with her tail.
The scene wraps until his eyes closed again. Not today, Quixote, now she wants sad that the tears will come out in spurts, small salt particles that sting in the lacrimal and deeper. Today you whimper like a helpless girl would do the first time a boy touched him lying between his legs. Today you feel small, abandoned and alone. Today you want but can not. Begins to sob quietly, almost obliged to mourn, but it hurts like someone is squeezing the heart and throat
The days are strange to her lately, full of matches and clandestine kisses, life is smoked like a shed, for then spit without mercy. The bedside table has been filled with phrases written half asleep, even the ashtray has his own, something like "never fly"
the afternoon sitting in the park is nearest your home to feel the heat melts the evenings playing with herself and her life, making it hang on the thinnest thread. Sometimes just write, something much less daring:
dreamed as between him and me to sleep descabezábamos. We had a decent guillotine so we were beheaded with our hands as a makeshift saws. It was a funny situation despite being smeared with blood, we laughed and ridiculed sleep handcuffed. He looked very sad with his handkerchief in his mouth and tears trickling down her cheeks without hands to dry. His eyes never stop moving, seeing what we cut a vein or artery at all times
resurrected tonight ... until small Quixote came to take off sheets and teach me how to light the lamp flashes, only that, the others light up light up like statues. The lamp flickers and are like me, just without eyelids or eyelashes Are the streetlights look? I saw a moving neck in search of what pupils to look, although it may be that when your eye so big you need it not a pupil or pupil so large that it is perceived, as if he had.
The lamp is sad. Flashes because it has so many tears in his enormous eye is not able to sustain. The letting go one by one with each blink and fall like pendulums scatter wet girls passing below How many more will stay?
The lamp is sad and it's like I
Listening: Horrors several of the current stupidity. Love 713avo
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