Cada cinco meses me acuerdo de vos y digo MIERDA

.

I walk in automatic.
It's like im a turned off machine, yet im working properly.

All i can get a hold of is my cloathed breathing,
the muscle soreness lumping in my arms,
the itchiness and inflammation aching my neck,
making it hard to speak.

Not a sound can come from my mouth,
yet these words run in my head like a waterfall.
Easy,
flowing naturally in an spontaneous phrase.

I manage to depict how i feel perfectly,
though im not actually feeling anything.
Not a threat of anxiety,
not a dreadful thought,
not a tear,
not a tremble.

Absolutely nothing.
I enjoy the peaceful.