Thursday, September 5, 2013

Immigrant in your body.

I am an immigrant in your body. A paperless more, but please forgive me: I lost them at same time I touch the shore of your chest.

In the state of your skin call me illegal, and I don't understand how can exist rules governing this wild paradise. How can accuse me that I am not from here, if I come out of nowhere, but it sure that for breathing this air that feeding, that drowns and at the same time oxygenates every wound.

I come with empty hands, but not to fill their pockets with your greatness.
That I am a poor purse, but I have in the heart an immense illusion for making my life a try but constant happiness.


I ask you nothing, I have no intention of stealing the post to your conscience.
I aspire to be the head of the multinational of your dreams, much less exercise as engineering on the island of your left breast.
I will not pollute your blue rivers to make them crimson, I won't take the place of all the doctors who already know how to calm your storms.


I only pray for you let me stay, that my hands just want to build a house on one of the edges of your lips that form the edges of your lips; neighboring languages ​​say that walk deserts and that since a while, usually bathe them waves of whiskey and beer.


Don't put me back out of nowhere, I want the future I see reflected in the region of your eyes.
That I am a foreign in your body, but I never believed in the motherland until you wave the flag of your smile; and is now when I feel, how I never did, that I was born to die and be reborn in each of your pores.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Without happy endings or sad endings. Without ends.

It hurts to feel your breath a few times in a year in the knowledge that perhaps, is the last time I can feel it.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Saturday, August 10, 2013

;

It's curious:
The best thing to meet you
is knowing that I will not end of do it never.