'Your face disfigured' she said.
'your heart is going to hurt' the other is doing her.
'but I'm happy'.
'but they are beautiful'.
'how can you be with eyes and mouth bleeding, crying?'
'do not know. I pretend there is no pain '.
'you and you've got a heart?'
'you'.
'is corrupt. I know '.
'And why are you happy?'
'because that makes me insensitive. I only have a problem '.
'do not tell'.
'I love you. Even with the damaged heart. '
'and you're happy, too?'
'no, love is the problem'.
had to promise to just play the first time we made love in the motel cheap, when it was enough just to feel Verlaine. The smoke made us fall in love with what we are not. Are you happy now that two women are killed for the second time? Are you happy when you see me breathing heavily and I've cut all the air molecules, transforming it into darkness? The darkness of our machines. The black scratches while trying to rip the skin white. White as the sand without sea. And so, too. A huge beach without water. Who do you think would be interested, if not to you and the time will never come back?
This thing has been writing a lot, maybe a long time ago. At night, without sleep, with a blue pen.
are the two eighteen p.m., and I do not even study.
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