We are the broken pieces of those before us.
Dark lives in us. The history condemns us, imprisons us.
The air escapes from our lungs, runs down our throats until disappearing insignificantly.
Vicissitudes of pain. Dead stars.
incandescent pieces, lost hopes.
Military fakers, protestants of affection, followers of soot.
Genocide of butterflies.
... The green-eyed boy took three steps and promptly the meter between us was gone. I wanted to do the same, take three steps and put a meter away from him, but my short legs, which were added to my five feet, would not have the same opportunities to imitate the chestnut. 'There's a difference between you and me sweetheart.' Mentioned with a hoarse voice, slowly and almost eternal. 'You can observe the moon occasionally during the day, but never see the sun at night.' He whispered stretching his hand towards me, his long and thin fingers went to my right cheek, his rough buds formed an invigorating contact to which one might rightly fear...
BMღ
