las veces que me rompí
El tren me está dejando.
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caos mental.
a veces te hundes, caes en tu agujero de silencio, en tu abismo de cólera orgullosa, y apenas puedes volver, aún con jirones de lo que hallaste en la profundidad de tu existencia.
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Prismatic Memories
"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. science. history. iv. but i want to speak. there are moments that fleet...
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