I've outgrown my own imagination and spent my youth on what was not yet needed.
Maybe an escape will steal from the present the little bits of the past i've left behind.
Here i'll be cheerful, imaginative and cheifly inconsistant. I might get gloomy though...
Hopefully untied to myself.
Monday, November 20, 2006
poema 34
A veces cantamos en lagunas de llanto profundo,
canto con pulmón y sangre.
Canto de arterias secas;
de corazón reloj de arena.
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